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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018300">Safeguard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakerBroken/pseuds/BreakerBroken'>BreakerBroken</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Safeguard [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Everybody Lives, F/M, I CAN FIX THIS, KILL IT WITH FIRE AND BEES, MGiT, Modern Characters in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Nobody Dies, Spoilers, Transported into the game, Try to save everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:40:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>118,567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakerBroken/pseuds/BreakerBroken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>***COMPLETED***</p><p>If it was up to you, you could save both of them.</p><p>Right?</p><p>NOTE: All of the writing that is underlined indicates that those lines of dialogue are from the original games/media. Those lines belong to their original writers and creators.</p><p>Chapters with an asterisk (*) have sexual content. None contain major plot points, if you would prefer to skip!</p><p>FYI: It's pretty different from my first fanfic, going to try a few things, I hope you enjoy it! ~BreakerBroken</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alistair/Original Female Character, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Safeguard [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Press Start</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's just a game.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Unknown~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>CRUNCH</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The ground is as sharp as glass, as fine as sand.</p><p> </p><p>It scrapes tiny cuts into the side of my face as I struggle to open my eyes and breathe. Coughs send clouds of sharp sand away from me as inhales draw the same sand into my lungs.</p><p> </p><p>The air tastes like metal. It smells like tar and smoke.</p><p> </p><p>Grit coats my mouth and pricks my eyes, making them water as I struggle to open them.</p><p> </p><p>A hand on my shoulder, another on my hip. The hands tremble.</p><p> </p><p>"Please..."</p><p> </p><p>The hands press down to shake me back and forth.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Please...</em>"</p><p> </p><p>My hands slide along the ground, adding scrapes to my palms. My hip and shoulder, the ones not being touched, ache as I try to push myself upright. I keep coughing, the grit finding its way into my nose. My eyes water from the smoke in the air and from the grit in my eyes.</p><p> </p><p>I should be inhaling the scent of a pine tree candle, dog fur, and coffee.</p><p> </p><p>I should be feeling soft fabric wrapped around foam.</p><p> </p><p>I should be tasting the funky tang of 'I fell asleep on the couch and didn't brush my teeth' breath.</p><p> </p><p>I should be in my living room.</p><p> </p><p>"Wha...?" It comes out strained and hoarse, then all I can do is cough. I ache all over, from skin to muscle to bone. I reach my hands up to wipe at the grit accumulating in my nose, only getting more in it.</p><p> </p><p>"You're awake." The voice is relieved. I slowly rotate to look at the person behind me, shifting to sit with my legs in front of me.</p><p> </p><p>The first thing I see is a giant, floppy hat. Just underneath the brim, I think I can see a pale chin.</p><p> </p><p>"You fell from the sky, but I heard you. I heard you falling. I made sure you wouldn't fall alone. And now you're here." The hat tilts and swivels as the person underneath it talks.</p><p> </p><p>I blink at the hat. It looks familiar. I turn my head slowly to look around.</p><p> </p><p>The landscape is all crushed black rock, bright glowing red crystals, and a lime-green splotch in the center of the sky. Embers from fires still burning float around in the air. I make out the outline of a person nearby. The person is frozen in place and covered in bright red lines and black, crumbling ash.</p><p> </p><p>I turn to look at the hat, realizing where I am.</p><p> </p><p>I'm dizzy, and my entire body hurts, and I can barely breathe. But it's fine.</p><p> </p><p>I'll wake up soon.</p><p> </p><p>Obviously, I'm in a dream. A bad dream, although not as bad as a full-on nightmare. </p><p> </p><p>I dig my fingers into my nose to pull the grit from my nostrils. No use in keeping up manners while I'm in a dream, and why be dream-uncomfortable if this isn't real anyway? It's just me judging myself.</p><p> </p><p>"Hi, Cole." I blow the rest of the grit out of my nose with a snort and wipe my hands on my pants. It looks like my dream's costume department got lazy, because I'm wearing the same outfit I fell asleep in on the couch: teal yoga capris, a soft gray tank top, and a sports bra. Orange toenail polish glimmers on my feet, and I reach up to feel the soft headband keeping my dirty, messy hair away from my face, tugging it so it sits around my head correctly.</p><p> </p><p>The scrapes and pain feel very real for this to be a dream, but I suspect I won't remember it as vividly once I wake up. I cough again, still struggling to breathe. I might finally be having a <em>Dragon Age</em> dream, but I'm disappointed it's a bad one.</p><p> </p><p>"We must go," Cole says, standing up.</p><p> </p><p>I cough more, finally pulling up my tank top collar to use the somewhat-clean inside to wipe off my eyes and nose. I hold out my left arm and look at it.</p><p> </p><p>There's no lime-green light shining from my palm.</p><p> </p><p>"Not even the Inquisitor in my own dream," I grumble.</p><p> </p><p>"We must go!" Cole's voice is more urgent. I cough and look at him.</p><p> </p><p>"What part are we in? Is the Inquisitor coming to close the Breach? Or is Corypheus about to attack Haven?"</p><p> </p><p>Cole shakes his head. "<em>We must go!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Fine." I stand up slowly, the ground stinging my bare feet, my muscles and joints aching. "Go ahead, Cole. I'll be right there."</p><p> </p><p>I'm not planning on going anywhere. I expect the dream to either immediately transport me to wherever we need to go, or I expect to wake up. I'm catching my breath back, and I brush as much of the sandy dirt off of me as I can.</p><p> </p><p>I look at Cole. He hasn't moved. And the scenery around me hasn't changed. I look up at the lime-green splotch in the sky, realizing that this is after the Breach is closed.  </p><p> </p><p>I had just finished that part in the game and saved.</p><p> </p><p>"Dreams imitate life," I say with my hands on my hips, eyes still watering from the grit and from the smoke in the air.</p><p> </p><p>I'll wake up.</p><p> </p><p>Any minute.</p><p> </p><p>Any minute...</p><p> </p><p>It's starting to get boring. I glance around again while I wait to wake up. </p><p> </p><p>I notice my phone lying on the ground a few feet away from me. I raise my hand and try to get it to levitate towards me with 'dream physics.' But nothing happens. I walk over and pick it up instead.</p><p> </p><p>I press the button to light the screen up. The time is about 15 minutes from the time I last checked the clock in my living room, and where the bars for cell reception should be it says 'No Service.'</p><p> </p><p>I would have expected something more bizarre in a dream.</p><p> </p><p>I feel Cole's hands grip my arms as he turns me to face him. "<em>You are awake!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, Cole, you said that already." His grip hurts. I wouldn't have thought that my subconscious would make a Cole that would <em>hurt</em> me. I always imagined that, should I ever be in a <em>Dragon Age</em> dream, Cole would be more like my guide, my dream's version of a tutorial screen.</p><p> </p><p>Cole's grip tightens. His voice shakes with fear, with frustration, and with conviction. "<em>You. Are. Awake</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"No, Cole. This is a dream." Might as well be honest with my subconscious. "This is a dream, and I'm going to wake up. Stop squeezing my arms!"</p><p> </p><p>He releases me and starts pacing back and forth quickly, talking to himself. "No no no, no, not enough, there's not enough <em>time</em>, how, <em>how</em>, how to show you that you're <em>here</em>."</p><p> </p><p>There's nothing my own mind could come up with to convince me that I wasn't in my own dream.</p><p> </p><p>He stops to stare at me. "I <em>know</em> that, because <em>you</em> think I'm <em>you</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I sigh. Of course my subconscious could read my mind in my dream. "Guess I don't have to talk out loud, then, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"There's <em>no time</em>." Cole grabs my arms again. I start to lean away and pull free from him, but his grip only tightens. "I'm sorry."</p><p> </p><p>We disappear before I can open my mouth to argue.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Main Menu</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nobody likes being wrong. Or being in the Fade.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Unknown~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I open my eyes, expecting to see my living room as it normally looks when I wake up on the couch.</p><p> </p><p>Instead I see enormous mountains floating in a tan sky. Everything looks hazy, as if a cold sun was shining through smoke. My head reels. Nausea builds up in my stomach, adding to the aches I feel.</p><p> </p><p>The air has turned cool and thick. It's just cool enough to know where my body stops and the air starts, only fractions of degrees marking a difference. The air is thick enough to feel it press along my arms and legs, to taste it on my tongue. It tastes like morning dew and dust.</p><p> </p><p>A sound builds up, rushing towards my ears. "...<em>Here!</em>..."</p><p> </p><p>I turn slowly, feeling the strange air move around me like it was water. The small movement exhausts me.</p><p> </p><p>Cole stands next to a cluster of gnarled vines. Some of the vines have been twisted together to form a rough circle. Within the circle, the air undulates violently, purple light shimmering within it.</p><p> </p><p>I hear the echo of what I'm going to say rushing towards me. "...<em>Why the Fade</em>?..." The echo continues past me.</p><p> </p><p>Cole shakes his head, moving much faster than I am. The echo of his words closes in before he opens his mouth. "...<em>Watch, then we must go</em>..."</p><p> </p><p>The circle is only a few steps away from me, but I move through the air as if it were mud. I press against the air to force it apart, to let me move towards the vines. I feel it drag against me, my muscles straining to push me forward faster.</p><p> </p><p>Cole reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me to the vines. It feels like I'm being jerked forward violently, although his grip is gentle and he moves normally.</p><p> </p><p>I squint through the circle of vines, watching a single scene play over and over again like a GIF. A lime-green flash, a body falling in the sky, then the body falling towards the ruins of the Conclave from the beginning of the game. The body rushes closer to the ruins, then another body appears below it in a puff of smoke. The bodies connect and fall to the ground. The scene begins again.</p><p> </p><p>I watch it a few times, noticing more details each time. The outline of unruly hair. The floppy hat. A barely visible rectangle landing near the bodies.</p><p> </p><p>Before I can think to speak, I hear Cole's voice echoing. "...<em>You still don't see, but there's no time</em>..."</p><p> </p><p>He turns and pushes through the vines. He hasn't let go of my hand yet. He drags me with him through endless layers of vines. I don't know how much time is passing. My shoulder aches with the strain of keeping my body connected to my arm.</p><p> </p><p>Then suddenly my feet feel cold. The air bites and whips at my skin. My breath comes out in clouds of white.</p><p> </p><p>Two giant wooden doors are in front of us, and Cole slams his fists on them.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"I can't come in unless you <em>open</em>,"</span> he shouts at the doors.</p><p> </p><p>He turns and disappears. I stand next to the wooden gates into Haven, barefoot, in my pajamas, while the roar of an approaching army grows behind me.</p><p> </p><p>The doors burst open and a slim woman runs through them. Our eyes meet, but she runs past me. Someone grunts behind me and I turn to see a large armored man slump to his knees. Cole stands up on the path behind him with a bloodied blade in his hand. The woman slows as she nears him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">"I'm Cole. I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know."</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"What is this? What's going on?"</span> Her voice is deeper, and she has an American accent.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"The Templars come to kill you,"</span> Cole says as he steps closer to her.</p><p> </p><p>I wait for the next line and realize Cullen is only halfway down the steps leading out of Haven, rather than already standing next to the Inquisitor. Or is she just the Herald at the moment?</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"Templars?"</span> He looks at Cole, then glances up at me. He's confused by my presence as much as Cole's, but is obviously more concerned with Cole's words and continues towards him. <span class="u">"Is this The Order's response to our talks with the mages?"</span> He stops alongside the Inquisitor, where he should have been for the entire line. <span class="u">"Attacking blindly?"</span></p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"The Templars went to the Elder One,"</span> Cole says to Cullen, then turns to the Inquisitor. <span class="u">"You know him? He knows you. You took his mages."</span> Cole dramatically turns and points to an outcropping across the frozen lake behind him. <span class="u">"<em>There</em>."</span></p><p> </p><p>I look to where Cole is pointing. "Samson." I'm a little proud of myself for remembering his name. </p><p> </p><p>A tall and twisted creature appears out of a puff of smoke next to the man.</p><p> </p><p>"And Corypheus." My teeth chatter and my body shakes from the cold.</p><p> </p><p>"Pardon?" I turn and see Josephine staring at me, Leliana behind her. Leliana's eyes dart around, trying to take in everything at once, creating plans to defend Haven from the oncoming army of monsters.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"He's very angry that you took his mages."</span> I hear Cole say to the Inquisitor.</p><p> </p><p>"H-Hey, Josephine." I rub my bare arms with my numb hands, chattering teeth making me stutter.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, do we know each other?" Josephine looks confused, trying to place me. Leliana moves closer to where the Inquisitor, Cullen, and Cole stand.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"Cullen! Give me a plan! Give me anything!"</span> The Inquisitor's voice is steady, but edged with panic.</p><p> </p><p>"N-no. I kno-ow you, but-t you d...don't know me." I'm almost totally numb now, the only physical feeling I have is aching pain in my forehead and jaw. The pain makes my nausea worse, and I start feeling drowsy.</p><p> </p><p>I hate the cold. Well, I hate the cold when I'm not ready for it. When I first moved somewhere with actual seasons, these kinds of headaches helped me quickly learn that I needed to wear something that protected my forehead from the winter wind. It's odd that my clothes didn't instantly change into a warmer outfit after I emerged from the Fade.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"Haven is no fortress,"</span> I hear Cullen say.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you with that young man?" Josephine asks, motioning to Cole.</p><p> </p><p>I nod and look around me. The Red Templars are coming through the woods, and the mission to Protect the North Trebuchet is going to start soon.</p><p> </p><p>So far, my dream has done a shitty job of casting me. It didn't even make me the main character.</p><p> </p><p>And it's done a shitty job of making my presence natural to the other characters, too.</p><p> </p><p>And at bending the plot to suit me.</p><p> </p><p>And at not making me feel pain.</p><p> </p><p>And at keeping me warm.</p><p> </p><p>It's done a shitty job of being a dream.</p><p> </p><p>So either it's a nightmare...</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe...</p><p> </p><p>Cullen draws his sword. <span class="u">"Mages! You! You have sanction to engage them!"</span></p><p> </p><p>"This isn't a dream." Panic sends a different kind of shivers across my shoulders, and my headache spreads to my temples and behind my eyes. I whip my head back to look at Josephine. "It's not a dream, <em>fucking</em> <em>shit goddamit,</em> <em>IT'S NOT A DREAM!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Josephine glances from me to where Cullen and the Inquisitor stand, then back to me. I think she's going to turn and run away from me, but she changes her mind, leaning towards me instead. "<em>Do you know what's going to happen?</em>"</p><p> </p><p>I nod furiously. "Start getting everyone to the Chantry <em>NOW</em>!"</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"INQUISITION! WITH THE HERALD!"</span> The crowds inside and outside of the gates of Haven draw their weapons at Cullen's words. </p><p> </p><p>Josephine turns and runs into Haven. Cullen calls out his final lines before the start of the mission.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">"<em>FOR YOUR LIVES! FOR ALL OF US!</em>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Options</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>How to prove you're not an NPC.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Unknown~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Inquisitor heads for the North Trebuchet with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas in tow. I look down at the tent outside of Haven's gate, near the stables.</p><p> </p><p>A very tall, very large man with horns stares back at me with one eye. The other is concealed behind an eyepatch. A man in golden armor is at his side.</p><p> </p><p>"Bull!" I shout, then point at the stable-armory-forge structure. "Go help Harritt gather his supplies and get everyone out of the stables and into the Chantry!"</p><p> </p><p>"Who are you?" The Iron Bull shouts up at me.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>JUST FUCKING DO IT</em>," I scream back, turning to begin stumbling into Haven.</p><p> </p><p>I turn around to see the rest of the Companions standing in a cluster just inside the gates. They stare at me, with distrust in their eyes, but they're there. Like they're waiting for orders.</p><p> </p><p>"Blackwall, go help that soldier!" I point to the side, forgetting the soldier's name. I'm surprised the enemies aren't there yet, before I remember that this is part of the side quest <em>after</em> the dragon attacks. And all side quests, like the main quests, are supposed to be done by the Inquisitor.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, the dark-bearded man just nods, unsheathing his sword and jogging towards her.</p><p> </p><p>"Sera." I look at the elf with short blonde hair and dark eyeliner. "Get to the tavern and take the tavern lady to the Chantry." I can't remember her name either.</p><p> </p><p>"I just came from there! Things're <em>fine</em> there." Her expression is just shy of a sneer.</p><p> </p><p>"They won't be in a few minutes so just fucking <em>go</em>, Sera!" I turn before she can say anything more, looking instead to the elegant Black woman in icy blue robes. "Vivienne, there's a merchant in that house." I motion to a building that will catch fire soon. "Go get her, then go towards the Chantry and get the requisition officer on your way!"</p><p> </p><p>"I'll handle it, but I want an explanation when this is over," she calls over her shoulder as she dashes towards the not-yet-burning building.</p><p> </p><p>Only Dorian is left. "What do you need me to do?"</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, <em>shit</em>, wait, we need two!" I turn and shout out to Blackwall again. "Blackwall, come back! Um, you all, just, be on guard!" The soldiers look at each other confused. "<em>Shit</em>. Hopefully the Inquisitor gets to her."</p><p> </p><p>Dorian raises an eyebrow at me, but Blackwall jogs back up before he can say anything.</p><p> </p><p>"Dorian, you and Blackwall go to where you usually hang out. Adan and someone else, a woman, they're both there and if you don't get them <em>right</em> <em>now</em> - "</p><p> </p><p>"Something terrible will happen to them and they'll die?" Dorian guesses.</p><p> </p><p>I stare at him. It's not a guess, it's a challenge. I messed up with sending Blackwall to stand guard with the soldier on the side, now both he and Dorian are looking at me with distrust again.</p><p> </p><p>"Dorian, you went through time magic." He takes a step back and nods. I know it's not actually the same, but there's no faster way to explain things. "Think of it like time magic, but the only risk is saving people who the Inquisitor is <em>supposed</em> to save anyway, just doing it <em>earlier</em> and with <em>less danger</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I hear Cullen faintly yell about the South Trebuchet.</p><p> </p><p>"What happens to Adan and the other person if we don't get there in time?" Blackwall asks.</p><p> </p><p>"They fall unconscious near the wagon of oil jars, then the oil jars catch on fire and one or both of them <em>burns</em><em> to death</em> if the Inquisitor isn't fast enough. <em>But if you go now, the Inquisitor won't have to do it</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall is about to ask another question, but Dorian grabs his shoulder. He nods at me. "Let's just do it, she can explain later." They start jogging in Adan's direction.</p><p> </p><p>A sound like thunder rumbles outside of the walls, signaling the first avalanche that buries the Red Templar army. Cheers ring out.</p><p> </p><p>Josephine has already started gathering people in the Chantry, and with the other Companions sent off, all the pieces of the side quest should be taken care of, or should be getting taken care of.</p><p> </p><p>I look up at the dragon that no one else sees yet. It unleashes a fireball, and I watch as it glides down to strike the Southern Trebuchet. The people who had been jogging towards the Chantry begin sprinting.</p><p> </p><p>Leliana appears by my side. She shoves a pair of boots and a jacket at me. "<em>Go</em>," she commands, pointing at the Chantry, then she runs towards the gates. </p><p> </p><p>"Leliana, to your left!" I shout after her. Maybe she can help the soldiers before the Inquisitor gets there. She changes direction and pulls out her bow, firing arrows at Red Templars who have jumped the walls.</p><p> </p><p>I pull on the jacket and boots, both too big but so much better than freezing my ass off, and begin stumbling towards the Chantry. I see Vivienne dash up the stairs, her stave glowing, flinging a spell at an enemy near the requisition officer's tent. The woman from the now-burning building follows her.</p><p> </p><p>I hear the explosion near the cluster of buildings where Dorian and Solas are usually stationed. I glance over there worried, but I can see Dorian and Blackwall already halfway to the Chantry. Blackwall carries the woman over his shoulder while Dorian practically drags Adan. They must have still been unconscious somehow near the oil jars, <em>before</em> the dragon arrived.</p><p> </p><p>The game is trying its best to lock them into position, to make the Inquisitor do the side quest.</p><p> </p><p>Movement on the path near me catches my eye, and Sera and the tavern lady are moving my way. Sera glances up and our eyes meet. She glares at me, but it's not with hate so much as with confusion. Everyone from the side quest has been saved, assuming Leliana is successful in helping the soldiers, and it's ahead of schedule.</p><p> </p><p>I look behind me to see the Inquisitor just coming into view of the gates. There are still clusters of enemies scattered around Haven, but it should be easy for the party to take care of now. I keep making my way to the Chantry, using the path that Vivienne already cleared.</p><p> </p><p>Roderick is standing at the Chantry doors ushering villagers inside, a vicious stomach wound spilling blood on his white tunic. I hobble up to him, finally starting to feel my feet again. His face is strained with pain and panic.</p><p> </p><p>"Who are-?"</p><p> </p><p>"There's another avalanche coming, it's going to bury Haven, we need to get the villagers out, you're going to have to tell everyone about the secret tunnel."</p><p> </p><p>"Bury Haven? Are you <em>mad</em>?!"</p><p> </p><p>I step closer to him, leaning towards him. "You die here, but before you do, you tell everyone about the tunnel, to make up for the fact that you've been a complete asshole to everyone in the Inquisition."</p><p> </p><p>"You <em>dare</em> threaten -"</p><p> </p><p>"It's not a threat, <em>it's what's going to happen</em>." I see the question in his pale face. "Yes, it's the future. The <em>immediate</em> future."</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"What a charming</span> girl," he replies through gritted teeth.</p><p> </p><p>The Inquisitor, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas come up the path and dash inside.</p><p> </p><p>Cole stands behind Roderick, catching him as he collapses and helping him into the Chantry. Cole looks at the Inquisitor.<span class="u"> "He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He's going to die."</span></p><p> </p><p>"You two must be related," Roderick sneers through wheezing breaths.</p><p> </p><p>A clear dialogue change. It's different from how Cullen started delivering his lines in a different spot when he ran out of the gates. Those lines and scene still ended up the same. I thought Roderick was just going to repeat the proper line to Cole: <span class="u">"What a charming boy."</span></p><p> </p><p>But he didn't. He changed the dialogue of a cutscene. <em>I </em>changed the dialogue of a cutscene.</p><p> </p><p>I look at the Inquisitor, who stares back at me.</p><p> </p><p>She has a square jaw, a delicately pointed chin, and wide cheekbones. Her nose is strong, the tip of it turning up slightly at the end. Her deep violet eyes are ringed with deep brown eyeliner, her barely tamed brows pulled low as she's studying me. Her face tattoo draws wavy lines on either side of her forehead, drawing down her cheeks. A single thick line is inked from just above her eyebrows, down the bridge of her nose, and across her ever-so-slightly purple lips to disappear under her chin. Her skin is the color of a glass of tea in the sunshine, and freckles are scattered across her face. Her dark hair is shaved on one side, showing a pointed ear, while the other side of her hair is long.</p><p> </p><p>Of course she's got violet eyes. Whenever I get the choice, that's the color I choose.</p><p> </p><p>Of course she's got an undercut with long hair. It's the haircut I wish I could pull off. The hair cut my friends and I joked about as The Skrillex One.</p><p> </p><p>She's my Dalish Inquisitor.</p><p> </p><p>Halea.</p><p> </p><p>I scan her quickly and see that instead of a pair of daggers, she's got a staff strapped to her back. So technically that makes her my second Dalish Inquisitor Halea, the one where she's a mage instead of a rogue.</p><p> </p><p>She's who I was playing before I fell asleep on my couch.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"Herald!"</span> Cullen's voice breaks our gaze. I keep forgetting that she isn't the Inquisitor yet.<span class="u"> "Our position isn't good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."</span></p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"I've seen an Archdemon."</span> Cole's crouched near Roderick, who grows paler and paler. <span class="u">"I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."</span></p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"I don't care what it looks like. It has cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone!"</span> Cullen's eyes are determined.</p><p> </p><p>I interrupt before Cole can continue his line. "Roderick knows a secret tunnel out of Haven through the Chantry. Everyone in the Chantry escapes. Halea stays to distract Corypheus and the dragon, and launches the trebuchet one more time to start another avalanche, she buries Haven, Corypheus, and any other enemies out there. It's temporary, there's more fighting, but that's later."</p><p> </p><p>They all stare at me.</p><p> </p><p>Then something clicks for Cullen, and he launches into a line that is later in the cutscene. <span class="u">"We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide."</span></p><p> </p><p>I look at Roderick, who looks to the door at the back of the Chantry. Cole comes in with another line that's usually later in the scene. <span class="u">"Yes, that. Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies."</span></p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"There is a path,"</span> Roderick begins weakly.</p><p> </p><p>I step back and let this part of the scene play out as it usually does.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"Herald, if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you."</span> Cole helps Roderick towards the back of the Chantry after his last line.</p><p> </p><p>"Halea." The Inquisitor stops in her tracks and stares at me. "You <em>are</em> going to get out of this. I'll make sure that campfire is lit."</p><p> </p><p>Cullen runs up with soldiers who volunteer to stay behind and help Halea, issuing orders. She only takes her eyes off of me when Cullen says the final lines of the scene. <span class="u">"If we are to have a chance - if <em>you</em> are to have a chance - let that thing hear you."</span></p><p> </p><p>She nods at him, then glances at me one more time before turning to the Chantry doors. I follow after Cullen.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Select</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sometimes you've just gotta blackmail someone into believing you.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We travel through the tunnel that Halea will be walking through soon.</p><p> </p><p>I try to figure out how long it is before she comes through here. It's at least long enough to set up the mountain camp, but it seems like it would be the same day, too.</p><p> </p><p>I wish I had a better memory for the little things that happened in this game.</p><p> </p><p>A hand waves in front of my face. "Hello?"</p><p> </p><p>I blink. Josephine is walking beside me. I've ended up in the middle of the Haven refugee crowd. I must have been walking more confidently than the NPCs. Maybe they stepped aside as I came by, too. I look down at my clothes and imagine how weird I look to them.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Josephine."</p><p> </p><p>"Could you not hear me just now?" She keeps her distance from me.</p><p> </p><p>"Just lost in thought. What's up?"</p><p> </p><p>She stares at me, and I realize that I have to try to talk like I'm in the game.</p><p> </p><p>Because I'm <em>in the game</em>. </p><p> </p><p>"Sorry, I mean, what can I do for you?"</p><p> </p><p>"You can tell me your name, for a start."</p><p> </p><p>I nod my head. "Right, yes, I'm Salome."</p><p> </p><p>"And how do you know me, Salome? From court, perhaps?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, not from court." I shake my head. "From, um..."</p><p> </p><p>How do you explain a video game to someone who is <em>in</em> a video game?</p><p> </p><p>"...Stories." She raises her eyebrows in surprise, then nods.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I'm not exactly <em>unknown</em>, one could say." She moves closer to me. "And how did you know about the attack?"</p><p> </p><p>Shit.</p><p> </p><p>"It's...hard to explain."</p><p> </p><p>"I suggest you try," a cold voice says. Leliana is on the other side of me. She might have been there for a while.</p><p> </p><p>"I'd rather wait until I can get everyone together..."</p><p> </p><p>Leliana grips my elbow, her fingers digging into my arm. She's pinching the part of my elbow where the joint connects to the bone in my upper arm. The not-so-funny Funny Bone spot. "Are you working for the enemy? The ones that attacked us?" She asks softly, leaning close to my ear. She doesn't want to alarm the refugees around us.</p><p> </p><p>"No." I bite my lower lip and clench my jaw shut, a ridiculous look in reaction to the pain.  It hurts enough when I bump my elbow into a corner. The constant pressure on the nerve starts to make my arm go numb with pain instead of cold. "<em>No</em>, Leliana."</p><p> </p><p>"Then tell me <em>how</em>." Her face is hard and her eyes are sharp. She doesn't release my arm.</p><p> </p><p>This isn't the right spot for this conversation, but if I tried to avoid it would I just make her more suspicious?</p><p> </p><p>Of course it would.</p><p> </p><p>It's <em>Leliana</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>remembered</em> it, okay!" My jaw is still clenched, jutting out and up to fight through the pain in my elbow.</p><p> </p><p>She releases my arm, and I immediately rub my elbow with my other hand. It does nothing for the pain.</p><p> </p><p>"You 'remembered' it," she says slowly. "Did you use time magic?"</p><p> </p><p>"Time magic?!" Josephine says a little too loudly. Some of the refugees turn and look at her, but she waves off their glances. "The kind Alexius used, from the Herald's report?"</p><p> </p><p>I shake my head. "I didn't use time magic, but that's...close?" As close to an explanation that might make some kind of sense in this world as I can get in an icy tunnel underneath a mountain.</p><p> </p><p>We walk a little way in silence until Leliana speaks again. "How can we trust you?"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't <em>fucking</em> know, Leliana." I'm cold, sore, and tired. I just found out that I was physically in a video game's world, not just in a dream, and had escaped the destruction of Haven. And, despite knowing what happens next, I was worried about Halea making it out of Haven alive. I <em>wish</em> I could remember how long it takes her to get to the mountain camp. "Maybe you should just chain me up like you did with Halea until you can get everyone together and I can talk to <em>all of you</em> at one time."</p><p> </p><p>She stares ahead of her. "That's not a bad idea."</p><p> </p><p>Josephine leans forward, talking to Leliana across me. "She helped save everyone in Haven. Surely we can forgo the shackles!"</p><p> </p><p>I stumble as the toe of my too-big boot catches on a rock. The muscles in my back and legs cramp, already pushed beyond their limit after falling out of the fucking <em>sky</em>, and I'm shaky with hunger and exhaustion.</p><p> </p><p>Josephine gestures to me. "See? She's too weak to run away! The shackles would be redundant."</p><p> </p><p>"Fine." Leliana begins slowing down to drop to the back of the crowd of refugees. "But I <em>will</em> be watching you."</p><p> </p><p>I wave my hand weakly as she disappears from my peripheral vision. "As long as you don't tell me my <span class="u">eyelashes flutter like butterflies when</span> I sleep, that's fine by me."</p><p> </p><p>Josephine looks at me again. "You say some very strange things."</p><p> </p><p>"Just wait until I tell all of you how I knew about the attack. It'll only get weirder."</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the journey is silent for me. Some of the refugees talk with one another, and Josephine drifts off to keep an eye on everyone. I'm going over in my head exactly what I'm going to say to explain a video game to a bunch of video game characters <em>in</em> said video game.</p><p> </p><p>The idea exhausts me more.</p><p> </p><p>We make it out of the cave and walk through the mountain pass to where we'll eventually set up camp. I realize that I've never thought about <em>how</em> they set up the camp. I don't remember seeing carts of supplies with us, but there must be. Refugees begin raising tents and starting fires. It's sunny out now. We must have been walking all night.</p><p> </p><p>I wander around and help people set up tents, organize and pass out blankets, whatever I can do. I don't think too hard about the strange looks everyone gives me, confused by my presence. I don't think too hard about where the supplies come from. I don't talk with any of the Companions. They're too busy helping set up camp to spare more than a confused or suspicious glance in my direction. </p><p> </p><p>Well, I'm confused too.</p><p> </p><p>I have no clue how I got here, or why I'm here. I just <em>am</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The sun is setting. I debate whether or not to head up to the pass on my own. Then I think about the stories of people freezing to death in the mountains.</p><p> </p><p>I seek out Cullen, and find him with Leliana and Josephine in some kind of tent headquarters. All three go quiet when I approach. "I want to go up to the pass and relight that campfire," I say, pointing at the narrow space between the mountains.</p><p> </p><p>Cullen looks at Leliana and Josephine, then at me. "The wind tears through that pass at nightfall and doesn't stop until sunrise. You'll freeze, no matter how big a fire you make. Stay in the camp."</p><p> </p><p>"Where we can-" Leliana begins.</p><p> </p><p>"Keep an eye on me, yeah." Leliana's eyes are cold. "Look, I don't want to go off alone, but I told Halea that I'd have the campfire lit for her when she made it through the tunnel." I look up at the pass. "I don't remember how many days it takes her to get here, but I know she gets here at night. Might as well hope that it's tonight."</p><p> </p><p>"You don't 'remember,' but you know she comes back?" Leliana shakes her head, crossing her arms. "We've been discussing what to do with you, and here you are, coming to us with another piece of information that you have no way of knowing, and no explanation for it other than you 'remember.' Or <em>don't</em> remember."</p><p> </p><p>Josephine taps her elaborate clipboard, the candle on it unlit. "We all hope that the Herald comes back, and it's touching that you believe she will, but..."</p><p> </p><p>"It's naive and reckless," Cullen cuts in. "We have to plan what to do now that Haven...and the Herald...are gone."</p><p> </p><p>I interlace my fingers and press them to my forehead, trying not to scream my frustration. "Just <em>wait</em> until Halea gets here." They look at me with pity. "<em>Fine</em>." I huff. "I'm going up to the pass and lighting that campfire. I'll get Solas to come with me part of the way. I need to talk to him anyway... And I'll get Cole to come with me."</p><p> </p><p>Josephine's eyebrows raise in confusion. "Cole? Who is Cole?"</p><p> </p><p>"Right, you guys won't be able to permanently remember him until we get to Skyhold."</p><p> </p><p>"Skyhold?" Cullen glances over at maps spread out on a table. "Where is Skyhold?"</p><p> </p><p>I raise my eyes up to the sky. I've said too much and I really, <em>really</em> need to talk with Solas first.</p><p> </p><p>I've always wondered if this would work. "Hey, Cole?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm here." He appears next to me in a puff of smoke. Or maybe it's dust. The three Advisors jump back from his sudden appearance.</p><p> </p><p>"What in Andraste's name -?!" Cullen reaches for his sword.</p><p> </p><p>I ignore Cullen. "Can you take me to Solas?" </p><p> </p><p>He nods his floppy hat. A new puff of smoke surrounds me then quickly drops, revealing a surprised Solas. He's setting up the lantern that he'll use to show Halea what Veilfire is later tonight. And half-lie to her about the origin of the Anchor.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, it's you." He looks at Cole and I. "I'm glad to see you both."</p><p> </p><p>"You remember me. Yes, of course you do." Cole nods. "You knew the Fade before the Veil. You were in the Fade after the Veil for a long time."</p><p> </p><p>Solas tilts his head. "Yes, that's true. I suspect you both are the only ones who know about my...connection...to the Fade."</p><p> </p><p>"You created the Fade." My voice is flat.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes narrow. "You're very straightforward for an embodied Spirit. Maybe one of Anger?"</p><p> </p><p>"Nope. I'm a human. Mortal."</p><p> </p><p>His eyes go wide. "Then how...?"</p><p> </p><p>"How do I know you're Fen'harel, and how do I know you're 'ye olde' pre-Elf rebel leader, and how do I know you created the Veil, etcetera, etcetera?" I turn to Cole. "Can you take us to the path up the mountain?"</p><p> </p><p>Poof, we're there. I'm thankful that Cole can be my own personal Fast Travel for the moment.</p><p> </p><p>I'm thankful for Cole.</p><p> </p><p>"I know," he says, getting a single laugh from me.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks. Walk with me, we'll talk." I start stomping my way up the snow-covered path. Not angry stomping, just trying to move my too-big boots through deep snow.</p><p> </p><p>Solas strides up beside me, the snow makes him sort of hop-walk. The snow is no obstacle for Cole. But that doesn't surprise me.</p><p> </p><p>"How did you uncover my identity?" Solas asks insistently. He's disturbed that I know who he is. He's definitely not going to like this next part.</p><p> </p><p>"And how do I know that <em>you</em> created the Anchor and gave it to Corypheus? <em>And</em> how do I know that you're planning to blast this current world to nothingness to restore your <em>past</em> world in a misguided attempt to ease your own guilty conscience?"</p><p> </p><p>He's stopped walking, standing on the path a few steps back.</p><p> </p><p>"Because I remember it." I call over my shoulder. I keep stomping up the slope towards the mountain pass. The light is fading fast. I realize it'd be really great if I could get Solas to walk all the way with me. I have no way of lighting that campfire by myself.</p><p> </p><p>He dashes to catch up with Cole and I. He grabs my arm to stop me. What is it with grabbing arms in this game? "<em>How do you know</em>?" he whispers through clenched teeth.</p><p> </p><p>I pull my arm out of his grip and lean in, almost nose-to-nose with him. "Look, I wanted to have this talk with you to let you know that <em>I know</em>. I'm going to tell everyone <em>how</em> I know things- <em>no not who you are - </em>just 'things'...as best I can...when everyone is here to talk to. Including Halea. But if you want a preview, the answer is I don't totally know how to explain how I know. And the biggest mystery is <em>I have no clue how I got here, or why I'm here.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>I turn and keep stomping up the path. Almost there. "That's actually something I want your help with. Out of everyone here, <em>you're</em> the one who might be able to figure it out and get me back home. <em>Maybe</em>. Not totally sure, though."</p><p> </p><p>"And you won't reveal my name, or my plan?" He's suspicious. He should be.</p><p> </p><p>"I've always debated if I would, I kind of go back-and-forth on it," I say honestly. "But for whatever this first meeting ends up being, no. Like I said, I wanted to let you know that I <em>know</em>, mostly so that you'd actually <em>believe me </em>when I talk to everyone."</p><p> </p><p>"I believe you," Cole says. Sweet kid.</p><p> </p><p>"I know you do, but people have a hard time understanding you, plus right now they won't remember you. But I'm glad you do." I'm really, <em>really</em> glad that he's around. And not just as an in-person tutorial or Fast Travel.</p><p> </p><p>I'm glad he already believes me, that <em>somebody</em> already believes me. Now if I could get Solas to...</p><p> </p><p>"He's very upset." Cole turns his head towards Solas but avoids looking at him. "He thinks you're going to trick him because you're vague, it makes him upset."</p><p> </p><p>I sigh. "Look, Solas, I <em>know</em> I'm being vague." Solas crosses his arms but stays quiet. "I'm being vague because I want to try to explain myself in <em>one</em> meeting, not over and over again."</p><p> </p><p>We finally reach the mountain pass and the cold campfire that Halea will <em>almost</em> make it to before she collapses.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, can you light this for me? With something that won't get blown out by the wind?"</p><p> </p><p>Solas tsks, but looks to the campfire, then makes the hand motions to create Veilfire. I remember that water takes out Veilfire, but maybe wind won't.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks. And now we wait. Or I wait. If you'd rather go back to camp."</p><p> </p><p>Cole leans over to me. "You can't be here."</p><p> </p><p>He poofs both Solas and I back to the lantern.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Cole</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>"You would freeze, turn into ice. Ice can't help anyone."</p><p> </p><p>I sigh. "Thanks, Cole." He probably wasn't wrong, and it's usually pointless to argue with Cole anyway. I turn to Solas. "I'll leave you alone for now. I'm pretty sure Leliana wants me to stay in one spot."</p><p> </p><p>"I would not blame her," Solas says, glaring at me.</p><p> </p><p>"I wouldn't either. See you after the sing-along." He shakes his head as I walk back towards the Advisors' tent.</p><p> </p><p>Confusing people by referring to things in the game is kind of fun.</p><p> </p><p>And it's one of the only things I have any control over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Tutorial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The setup.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Leliana has me sit with Mother Giselle in a sort-of canopy, sort-of tent across from the Advisor HQ and orders me to stay put.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know how you disappeared right in front of us, but don't try it again." I hold up my hands in surrender.</p><p> </p><p>After Leliana stalks away, Mother Giselle clucks her tongue. "Don't mind her, child, she has had a long day. As have we all."</p><p> </p><p>She looks at my clothing. "Perhaps you would like something warmer and better fitting?"</p><p> </p><p>"If there's anything to spare, that would be great. But if there aren't any spares, don't worry about it."</p><p> </p><p>She smiles and pats my knee before wandering off. I don't think anyone has ever actually <em>patted my knee</em> in real life.</p><p> </p><p>Mother Giselle comes back surprisingly quickly with a full set of clothes, boots, and a jacket. The game must be eager to get me in clothes that better fit my body <em>and</em> the game world. Mother Giselle points to a length of cloth hanging down from one of the beams that creates a canopy-and-tent sleeping area. "You can change in there."</p><p> </p><p>"In where?" I pull the cloth aside, which is suddenly now the entrance to a square changing room-esque area. "Oh."</p><p> </p><p>It looks like it's created by cloth hanging down from other canopy-tents. I change quickly, and the clothing, of course, fits perfectly.</p><p> </p><p>I step out and lay the jacket and boots that Leliana gave me on one of the cots, holding my tank top and yoga capris in a death-grip. I don't know what the game will do if I let them go.</p><p> </p><p>"Would you like to keep those, my child?" I nod, and she hands me a leather pouch that I can wear across my body. "Then take this."</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks, Mother Giselle." I hear the wind picking up in the mountain pass. She watches me as I sit on a cot on the other side. "Halea should be here soon, and you'll be the one to comfort her when she wakes up."</p><p> </p><p>Mother Giselle looks at me, her mouth open in surprise. "What do you mean?"</p><p> </p><p>"That one needs to be open for Halea." It's not like she can't see me, I'm <em>literally</em> on the next cot over.</p><p> </p><p>"May I offer you some advice?" She asks.</p><p> </p><p>"Sure," I sigh. I'm ready for a Come-To-Andraste talk.</p><p> </p><p>"Take this, then get some rest." She hands me a classic half-loaf of bread, the kind that looks like part of a baguette.</p><p> </p><p>"Th-thanks." I start crying as I take my first bite of slightly-dry bread.</p><p> </p><p>It tastes like bread.</p><p> </p><p>I don't know why that makes me cry.</p><p> </p><p>I crawl under the blankets and furs of the cot I'm on, crying and eating my bread, crumbs getting everywhere. I feel goddamn <em>pathetic</em>.</p><p> </p><p>My eyes are stinging when I finally shut them.</p><p> </p><p>"The Herald has returned!"</p><p> </p><p>I wake up at Cullen's shout. My eyes are sore, and I can clearly see the mountain camp around me.</p><p> </p><p>I'm still here. It's still not a dream.</p><p> </p><p>I close my eyes again, pretending to be asleep. The singing should start soon.</p><p> </p><p>A little while later, I hear Mother Giselle talking with Halea, going through the emotional cutscene that ends in an inspiring sing-along of "The Dawn Will Come." The scene brought a tear to my eye when I first watched it.</p><p> </p><p>I'm a sucker for scenes like that. Pulling through a disaster by coming together as a team always hits me <em>right</em> in the emotions. In a story or in the real world.</p><p> </p><p>I keep my eyes closed. I don't have any right to be in this scene.</p><p> </p><p>I hum along to the song, then open my eyes when it ends. I can see the glint of Veilfire a little outside of camp, so Halea and Solas are having their talk.</p><p> </p><p>I wonder if they'll end up together like I was planning for this play though.</p><p> </p><p>"It was just as you said." I sit up and look at Cullen, standing at the foot of the cot. "I couldn't get what you said out of my head, so I went to check up at the pass. I got there just as she fell into unconsciousness." He shakes his head. "How did you know?"</p><p> </p><p>I dig my fingers into my hair and scratch at my scalp. It's itchy and oily. I was supposed to take a shower after my nap on the couch. "I remembered it. Like I've been saying. Look, Cullen." One of my hands slides down to my face, and I feel how oily it is, as well as some soon-to-arrive acne spots. I start rubbing at the spots. Bad habit, made worse by being nervous. "If you get everyone together, I'll explain what I can. But I'm only doing it once."</p><p> </p><p>"You want to speak to all the refugees?" He rests his hands on the pommel of his sword and shifts his weight. Cullen's War Room stance.</p><p> </p><p>Of course he'd think I meant literally everyone.</p><p> </p><p>"No, I mean you, Josephine, Leliana, Halea..." I start keeping count on my fingers. "Solas, Cole - wait, don't worry about him, um, Cassandra, Varric, Vivienne, Blackwall, Iron Bull..." I stop and stare at the snow, trying to think if I've missed anyone. "Dorian, Sera." I keep thinking. "I think that's everyone."</p><p> </p><p>"That's an interesting group." He considers it. "I'll gather everyone tomorrow morning. I'm sure your explanation is going to be...enlightening."</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe. I hope so."</p><p> </p><p>"As do I." He saunters off, the game forcing him into his War Room walk before letting him settle into a more regular one.</p><p> </p><p>I run my hands through my hair again, trying to separate out tangles, then wrap my headband around it as a makeshift hair tie. I hope I'll get to shower soon.</p><p> </p><p>'Bathe.' Showers don't exist here.</p><p> </p><p>I lay down, pulling the blankets and furs over me again.</p><p> </p><p>"Will you stay with me?" I ask. Cole nods. He's appeared, sitting at the end of the cot, near my feet.</p><p> </p><p>I knew he'd know I wanted to see him.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks, Cole. I'm...I'm really..."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, I know."</p><p> </p><p>Of course. I close my eyes and go back to sleep.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>My forehead and cheeks are numb when I wake up again. The sunrise paints the snow light gold, and the air is sharp. I've never slept outside in the cold before, due to hating the cold. Unless I'm inside, with hot chocolate, and a fire... I like it from a distance.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>JESUS CHRIST!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Cole appears in front of me. "You're hungry." He hands me another piece of bread. "You need to eat. It will not be easy to convince them."</p><p> </p><p>"Right, right." I can literally feel my heart pounding in my chest. "Thank you. Any idea how much time I have?"</p><p> </p><p>"It's now." He looks out at Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine approaching the canopy-tent with my cot.</p><p> </p><p>My heart's still pounding, but not from Cole's jumpscare anymore. I sit up and take a huge bite of bread.</p><p> </p><p>As the Advisors near my tent, Josephine's eyebrows rise in confusion. She's holding a plate with some food and a mug of something that sends steam into the early morning air.</p><p> </p><p>"We brought you some breakfast. Where did you get <em>that</em>?" She nods at the half-loaf of bread in my hand.</p><p> </p><p>I point to Cole. "He brought it for me."</p><p> </p><p>All three of them look at Cole, but their eyes can't seem to focus on him.</p><p> </p><p>"And who <em>is </em>he?" Cullen asks. "I've never seen him before."</p><p> </p><p>"This is Cole. He's my personal guest for our meeting," I say, grabbing Cole's hand. Testing another theory...</p><p> </p><p>All three Advisor's eyes are now clearly focused on Cole. Looks like the theory is sound: a physical connection with a non-ghost/spirit person helps keep Cole in their memory.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah." Cullen clears his throat. "Speaking of the meeting, everyone on your list is ready to hear what you have to say."</p><p> </p><p>"And to answer some of <em>their</em> questions," Josephine adds, sipping from the steaming mug. The breakfast and whatever possibly-caffeinated drink she brought must have been a packaged deal. I long for the warmth and the possible-caffeine of whatever's in that mug.</p><p> </p><p>"The Iron Bull was not happy that you yelled at him," Cole says.</p><p> </p><p>Leliana's eyebrows lower. "<em>You</em> know Iron Bull? Are you one of his Chargers?"</p><p> </p><p>"No."</p><p> </p><p>They wait for Cole to say something more.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't.</p><p> </p><p>I finish my bread in the awkward silence.</p><p> </p><p>I stand up, keeping hold of Cole's hand. "So, where are we meeting?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Opening cutscene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Exposition #1.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Advisor's HQ canopy-tent has been converted into a large <em>actual</em> tent, shielding the group from the cold.</p><p> </p><p>And from prying eyes &amp; ears.</p><p> </p><p>Inside the tent, all eyes are on me.</p><p> </p><p>The Companions.</p><p> </p><p>The Advisors.</p><p> </p><p>But...where's Halea?</p><p> </p><p>"So, let's start at the beginning," Josephine starts. "Who are you?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm Salome." Eyes turn to Cole. "Oh, and this is Cole. Actually." I motion to Solas, who starts and looks around the circle. "Could he sit next to you?"</p><p> </p><p>"Y-yes, I suppose." He gets up and drags a chair next to him.</p><p> </p><p>"Great, thank you." I walk Cole over and grab Solas' hand, putting their hands together like transferring a toddler from one parent to the other.</p><p> </p><p>"He's not a child," Solas says. His tone is almost neutral even enough to hide his contempt for how he thinks I'm treating Cole.</p><p> </p><p>Almost.</p><p> </p><p>"It's to keep him in everyone's mind." Solas glares at me. I lean into his glare. "Just hold his fucking hand, <em>Solas.</em>" Solas curls his lip, but takes hold of Cole's hand. Cole sits down, and I walk back to the only chairless spot in the circle.</p><p> </p><p>"So, <em>you two</em> know each other?" Cassandra asks suspiciously. She didn't interact with me back in Haven, which seems to make her that much more suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>"No,<em> I</em> know <em>him</em>. He doesn't know me. Well, he doesn't know me very <em>well</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"What does that even <em>mean</em>?" Cassandra replies, annoyed. She hates when she doesn't understand something. Or feels like someone is keeping something from her.</p><p> </p><p>At least, I think that's what I remember about her.</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe we're getting ahead of ourselves." Josephine interrupts delicately. "So, <em>Salome</em>, can you tell us a little bit more about who you are?"</p><p> </p><p>My first name alone isn't going to satisfy them.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm Salome, I'm a pastry chef, I'm 31, um..." Yikes, this feels like trying to write a dating profile. "And...I'm not from here."</p><p> </p><p>"Where are you from, then?" Cullen asks, sitting back in his seat.</p><p> </p><p>I don't know what I can and <em>can't</em> say.</p><p> </p><p>I don't want to break the game. But I don't want to lie.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm from outside of this world."</p><p> </p><p>Blank stares.</p><p> </p><p>"You saying you're from somewhere far away, like Far Pollen or wherever he came from?" Sera asks, motioning to Iron Bull with her thumb.</p><p> </p><p>"It's 'Par Vollen,' Sera." Josephine offers helpfully.</p><p> </p><p>"That's what I said!"</p><p> </p><p>I shift nervously. "No, I'm not from Par Vollen. I'm not from Ferelden, or Orlais, or Kirkwall, or Tevinter, or anywhere here."</p><p> </p><p>This isn't going well.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm from <em>outside</em> of this world."</p><p> </p><p>"Saying it twice doesn't make your statement make more sense, I'm afraid." Dorian raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't sound condescending. Which makes me feel better, because it means he likes me enough to tease me.</p><p> </p><p>At least, I hope it does.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm from a totally different world - different land, different oceans, different stars, different <em>everything</em> - where all of this," I motion to the tent around me, "is a story."</p><p> </p><p>No one speaks.</p><p> </p><p>Until Varric chuckles.</p><p> </p><p>"You'll need to come up with something more realistic than that..." He looks me over. "Freckles."</p><p> </p><p>Holy shit. </p><p> </p><p><em>Varric just gave me a nickname</em>!</p><p> </p><p>That's a good sign.</p><p> </p><p>Isn't it?</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, this is perfect! <em>You're a writer</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>Varric chuckles again. "So, you're a fan of my work?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm a fan of you in general, but <em>focus</em>." I take a step towards him, excited, but stop when most of the circle shifts uncomfortably in response. "Um, okay, have you ever written something that's set in an <em>imaginary</em><em> world</em>, someplace that's literally <em>not here</em>? Where you might have had to draw your own map?"</p><p> </p><p>Varric shifts to lean on the arm of his chair. "Can't say that I have personally, but I'll play along."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, so say you've written a book that's set someplace imaginary, you'd have to draw your own map for your readers, that sort of thing."</p><p> </p><p>"I'd call it <em>The Duchess and The Griffon Tamer</em>." Varric puts a hand to his chin, as if this is the first time he's thinking this title up. "A torrid romance between a rich but lonely Duchess and the Griffon Tamer on her new husband's estate." Cassandra's eyes go wide in excitement, but she quickly changes her expression back to distrustful.</p><p> </p><p>"So this book, <em>The Duchess and The Griffon Tamer</em>, is set in its own 'world,' while <em>you</em>, the author, are in the world <em>outside</em> of the book."</p><p> </p><p>"And <em>you're</em> saying that you got magically transported into your own story?" Varric raises an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh god, no. <em>No</em>. I'm not the author."</p><p> </p><p>"You're a reader, then?" Josephine has been taking notes on her clipboard, the candle's flame fluttering.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes! I've 'read' the story of this world, of <em>you</em>." I gesture around the circle.</p><p> </p><p>I hope they can't hear the air quotes in my voice.</p><p> </p><p>"I've 'read' it a couple of times through, actually. It's one of my favorites."</p><p> </p><p>"That's flattering, Freckles, but it begs the question: <em>how</em> did you get here, inside of your favorite story?" Varric's leaning forward, intrigued.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know."</p><p> </p><p>"You don't know? You don't <em>know</em>?!" Cassandra jumps to her feet. Her disbelief comes out as anger. "This is <em>nonsense</em>. You can't even explain <em>how</em> you got here! Why should we believe you?"</p><p> </p><p>"I..."</p><p> </p><p>It's not that Cassandra's anger surprises me.</p><p> </p><p>I've just never been the <em>direct target</em> of it.</p><p> </p><p>"Secrets." Cole says it quietly. I turn to look at him. I notice that Solas is still holding Cole's hand, which makes me happy. "Soft conversations, the right choice to say at the right time, go to the right spot. If you say the right thing, they'll be your friend."</p><p> </p><p>"Secrets?" Leliana's interest is piqued.</p><p> </p><p>"They're not <em>secrets</em>, really," I say slowly. "But I know things that you probably wouldn't tell anyone unless you were close with them."</p><p> </p><p>"Such as?" Leliana presses.</p><p> </p><p>I cross my arms. "There's no way I'm just going to spill everyone's information in front of a crowd. But I'd be willing to talk to each of you individually and tell you what I know about you. If I remember. I don't remember everything from the story. But maybe that would convince you guys that I'm possibly telling the truth."</p><p> </p><p>I turn to Solas. "Right?"</p><p> </p><p>He stiffens again. "Speaking with you did provide...<em>some</em> believability..." He says it carefully. My reluctant ally.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll take 'some' over 'none.' So, what do you guys say? Will you give me a chance?"</p><p> </p><p>Everyone exchanges glances.</p><p> </p><p>The silence grows.</p><p> </p><p>My nervousness starts turning into panic.</p><p> </p><p>This is the only way I can think of that would get them to believe me.</p><p> </p><p>What am I supposed to do if they won't talk to me?</p><p> </p><p>"Well..." Varric stands up, adjusting his jacket. "I'll be the first volunteer."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>You</em>, Varric?" Cassandra makes a signature Disgusted Noise. "You're not exactly <em>forthcoming</em> in interviews."</p><p> </p><p>"Not when <em>you</em> conduct them, Seeker." He gestures to me. "And I'm willing to bet that Freckles here has better bedside manners than you."</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra makes another Disgusted Noise.</p><p> </p><p>Josephine intercedes again. "If Varric is willing to speak with Salome alone, we may as well give her a chance. You can use my tent."</p><p> </p><p>"And give her the chance to escape?!" Cullen asks in alarm.</p><p> </p><p>"Cullen, if she wanted to escape, she would have done so by now." Josephine says it matter-of-factly, but Cullen is still unsure.</p><p> </p><p>"And I will track her down <em>personally</em> if she does attempt to escape." Leliana stares at me as she says it, talking to me as much as Cullen.</p><p> </p><p>"Great, I'm glad that's settled," Varric says wryly. "Now, Freckles, let's have a chat."</p><p> </p><p>He holds the HQ's tent flap open for me as I follow him into the early morning sunshine.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Still the Opening Cutscene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Exposition #2.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Somehow, Josephine managed to fit a desk and two chairs into her tent. I wonder again exactly <em>how</em> these things were transported to the mountain camp, but I don't think I'll ever get a better answer than 'that's just how video games work.'</p><p> </p><p>Varric sits down, crossing one leg over the other, steepling his hands. "Alright, Freckles. Let's hear what you have on me."</p><p> </p><p>I sit down, hoping I'm remembering everything right.</p><p> </p><p>"Let's see. Well if I go back to your time in Kirkwall, I know your brother was...possessed, I think's the right word...by Red Lyrium thanks to an artifact he brought back from your Deep Roads expedition."</p><p> </p><p>He nods. "I don't keep that a <em>secret</em>, but it's not exactly common gossip."</p><p> </p><p>"I know you had a choice. You could choose to try to save him, send him to an asylum or something like that. Or you could choose to kill him."</p><p> </p><p>He clears his throat, and his look of amusement disappears. "That's true, but that's something that you could have reasoned out."</p><p> </p><p>"What...what did you end up doing?"</p><p> </p><p>"You don't already know?" He raises an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>I lean forward, speaking more quietly. If there's any chance Leliana or her spies are listening, I don't want this part to get out. Not yet.</p><p> </p><p>"I didn't mention this in front of the others because it makes things a lot more complicated. Do you know what a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' story is?"</p><p> </p><p>"Can't say that I do, no."</p><p> </p><p>God-f<em>ucking</em>-dammit. It would have been <em>so much easier</em> to explain this if those existed in <em>Dragon Age</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"In any given scene, a character has the chance to make a choice, right? As the author, you choose what their decision is. In a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' book, you write out the result of <em>both</em> choices, then <em>the reader</em> decides what they think the character's choice would be, and reads the corresponding scene."</p><p> </p><p>"Sounds interesting. A lot of work, but interesting."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>This story</em> is a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' story. Anytime someone had a choice to make, <em>I</em> got to make the decision, so the story played out based on the decision <em>I</em> made on behalf of each character."</p><p> </p><p>He thinks for a minute. "So which choice did you make for <em>me</em>, with Bartrand?"</p><p> </p><p>Shit.</p><p> </p><p>"Um, well, I 'read' it through a few times, right? So I've had you make both choices." He stares at me, his expression guarded. "They're both hard choices," I mumble.</p><p> </p><p>"Was there a 'right' choice?" He asks it quietly.</p><p> </p><p><em>Fuck</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"No."</p><p> </p><p>He nods quietly, then clears his throat. "Well, that's interesting, but like I said, it's not exactly a <em>secret</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I want to ask him what choice he made, but I definitely can't. Not right now.</p><p> </p><p>"I know who Bianca is. And I <em>don't</em> mean your crossbow. I mean the <em>real </em>Bianca."</p><p> </p><p>"Do you?"</p><p> </p><p>"She's a Dwarf and...you wanted to be together but you can't...because she's married." He gets ready to say something but I hold out my hand. "Hang on, let me try to remember some more."</p><p> </p><p>I press my hands to my eyes. "It's something about...it's not the fact that she <em>is</em> married, but it's something about <em>why</em> she got married. Dammit, shit, <em>fuck</em>." I dig my knuckles into my forehead. "I can't remember <em>why</em>, I just know you're super hung up on her, so you won't let anyone else love you, because you're still in love with her, <em>obviously</em>, but being in love with her hurts?"</p><p> </p><p>I sigh and lean forward, rubbing my forehead. It's coated in even more oil than last night. "Sorry, I wish I remembered more. I just know that everyone was really mad that you didn't get a romance and the writers had to explain <em>why</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I look up at him. His hands are no longer steepled. He's leaning on the arm of the chair again, his fist pressed to his mouth, staring at me.</p><p> </p><p>"Let me guess, none of that is a secret, either?"</p><p> </p><p>He looks off to the side, a distant look in his eyes. "Bianca and I couldn't escape the Merchant Guild's reach. Eventually she decided to marry for power like her family wanted. We still keep in touch, try to see each other when we can."</p><p> </p><p>I still can't remember much about her.</p><p> </p><p>"But it's not the same..." Varric says quietly. "You said 'being in love with her hurts.' You're right. But I can't stop loving her."</p><p> </p><p>He sighs. "Well, Freckles."</p><p> </p><p>I hold my breath.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm convinced."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Really?!</em> You believe me?!"</p><p> </p><p>"I believe that you know more about me than you should. As for all of this being some book that you just fell into? That I'm not so sure about. But it could make things very interesting."</p><p> </p><p>He stands up and starts walking towards the front of the tent. "Think you're ready for the next one?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sure. Um, Varric?" He turns, one hand on the tent flap. "Thanks for giving me a chance."</p><p> </p><p>"Like I said, Freckles, you could make things very interesting." He waves as he leaves.</p><p> </p><p>I only have a second to wonder if anyone else is coming before the tent flap is pulled back. A massive shadow blocks out the sun beyond.</p><p> </p><p>Iron Bull.</p><p> </p><p>"Glad you made time for a chat. I got a couple of questions for you."</p><p> </p><p>Oh no.</p><p> </p><p>I remember screaming at him back at Haven.</p><p> </p><p>Don't panic.</p><p> </p><p>He's not a bad guy, he might just be a little pissed at the fact that I screamed at him so he would help save Harritt.</p><p> </p><p>For seemingly no reason.</p><p> </p><p>Because it was before the dragon attacked and the stables weren't on fire yet.</p><p> </p><p>Oh <em>shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He ducks down to enter the tent and sits in the empty chair. It groans under the weight of his bulk.</p><p> </p><p>"So. <em>Salome</em>. You say you know who we all are, which means you know who <em>I</em> am. And in Haven, you issued an order to <em>me</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Oh shit, oh shit, oh <em>shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Now I'm going to ask you a question, just a Yes, or a No. Are you with the Ben-Hassrath?"</p><p> </p><p>I don't remember what the Ben-Hassrath is, so clearly I'm not with them. Or it.</p><p> </p><p>"No."</p><p> </p><p>"So, you're not with the Ben-Hassrath. Which means<em> I don't answer to you</em>. So tell me: what the <em>fuck</em> were you doing by giving me an order."</p><p> </p><p>He says it too casually.</p><p> </p><p>"I knew the dragon was coming, and that when it did Harritt and everyone in the stable-forge place were going to be in danger. You and Krem were the closest to the stables, so it...made sense...to send you there..."</p><p> </p><p>He stares at me.</p><p> </p><p>"Well then, why did you help Harritt?! You didn't have to listen to me, but you did! You could hear it in my voice, couldn't you? That things were about to go to shit!"</p><p> </p><p>He leans forward. I have to look up to meet his eye. "Yeah, I could tell that something was going down. I don't mind obeying orders. If the person issuing them is <em>paying me</em>. So it seems to me that you owe me payment."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't have any money, Bull. I was <em>transported</em> here. While I was <em>asleep</em>. And I don't sleep with money on me. <em>And</em> it would be useless here anyway."</p><p> </p><p>He leans back and crosses his arms.</p><p> </p><p>"So, what do you propose we do?"</p><p> </p><p>"I propose that you would have wanted to help Harritt anyway, and you're just pissed that I <em>told you</em> to."</p><p> </p><p>He glares at me.</p><p> </p><p>I feel myself sweating, despite the cold.</p><p> </p><p>He keeps glaring at me.</p><p> </p><p>Then he throws his head back and laughs. "You've got guts, I'll give you that!"</p><p> </p><p>Oh thank <em>god</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"How about this: I'll let you have that one for free. But next time you try to order me around, I expect to get paid. Deal?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, that's great, deal!"</p><p> </p><p>He stands up.</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, what about convincing you that I'm actually from a world where you're a story?"</p><p> </p><p>Bull shrugs his shoulders. "I figure either you're insane, or it's some magic shit. Between you and me, I hope it's magic shit. At least magic can be undone."</p><p> </p><p>He carefully maneuvers his horns through the tent entrance.</p><p> </p><p>I wonder if anyone else will come in.</p><p> </p><p>The tent flap is pulled aside again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. How is it Still the Opening Cutscene?!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Exposition #3.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blackwall.</p><p> </p><p>But that's not actually his name.</p><p> </p><p>Number 2 on the list of 'People With the Most to Lose if Their Secret is Revealed.' Just under Solas.</p><p> </p><p>I'm half-surprised that he wants to talk to me. And half-not.</p><p> </p><p>After all, he's one of the People With the Most to Lose if Their Secret is Revealed. He'd want to know if I know.</p><p> </p><p>He sits down in the chair. "Hello."</p><p> </p><p>"Hi."</p><p> </p><p>A very awkward silence follows.</p><p> </p><p>I decide to approach this more delicately for him. I lean forward and motion for him to do the same. He leans towards me.</p><p> </p><p>"Thom. Rainier? I think that's your last name."</p><p> </p><p>He leans back. "So it's true. You really do know things about us."</p><p> </p><p>He could have at least let me finish what I was going to say before doing the dramatic lean-back.</p><p> </p><p>I motion him forward again.</p><p> </p><p>"Blackwall, I'm going to tell you what happens to you, I haven't done that for anyone else yet."</p><p> </p><p>This is my chance to see if the game breaks if I interfere in the future. I need to test it out on <em>someone</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright." He's resigned and a little suspicious. Assuming I'll either lie, or that his fate is <em>bad</em>. Which it could be.</p><p> </p><p>"Eventually, you tell Halea. You find a moment to tell her, but it's not exactly the <em>right</em> moment. I don't think you can help it, though." He probably would have told her whether or not I said he would. Still, I'm 'revealing the future' of the game.</p><p> </p><p>I stop and look at him, and at the tent around us.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing glitchy or broken so far.</p><p> </p><p>"You end up turning yourself in," I keep going. "To whoever you would turn yourself in to, whatever those authorities would be. And they lock you up."</p><p> </p><p>He nods. Everything still seems fine.</p><p> </p><p>"And Halea decides whether or not to let whoever you turn yourself in to decide your fate. If she decides to keep you with the Inquisition, your punishment is to stay with the Inquisition forever. If she decides that you should <em>actually</em> join the Grey Wardens, you join the Grey Wardens and keep working with the Inquisition."</p><p> </p><p>"And if she doesn't intervene?"</p><p> </p><p>"Then whoever you turn yourself in to ends up executing you for your war crimes. Abandoning your troops. Whatever it was that you're in trouble for."</p><p> </p><p>"So which is it? Do I remain with the Inquisition, or do I die?"</p><p> </p><p>I sigh and shake my head. "That's the thing. It's up to Halea."</p><p> </p><p>Me. It was up to <em>me</em>. As Halea.</p><p> </p><p>He nods and sits back, less dramatically this time. "Then I'll trust that her decision will be the right one."</p><p> </p><p>I lean back, too.</p><p> </p><p>"So you believe me, too?" He nods, then pauses. "Or, you at least believe I know things I shouldn't necessarily know?"</p><p> </p><p>"That. I've tried to hide my past for a long time. And I might not have been all around Thedas - "</p><p> </p><p><em>Thedas</em>, that's this world's name!</p><p> </p><p>"- but you truly don't seem like you're from this world."</p><p> </p><p>He looks away, then back at me. "You really trust that I'll 'do the right thing,' then?"</p><p> </p><p>I shrug. "I mean, you <em>do</em>. If the story stays the same."</p><p> </p><p>"Is that what you're hoping for?"</p><p> </p><p>Weirdly insightful guy.</p><p> </p><p>"There's...there's one thing I hope I can change."</p><p> </p><p>I've thought about it before, in past playthroughs.</p><p> </p><p>"But I'm not sure I <em>can</em>. I've been able to...not <em>change</em> things, necessarily. Not in a big way. The story's still following the same plot. But I've changed little things. I'm not here to completely rewrite everything. But if I can help make things easier, I think that'll be okay."</p><p> </p><p>He stands up. His loose jacket makes him look like he has a beer gut. I know he doesn't. Maybe I should have just said <em>that</em>...</p><p> </p><p>"I wish you luck," he says. It's kind, but a little sad.</p><p> </p><p>He's not sure that I'll make it. I can tell. And I don't know if I will either.</p><p> </p><p>He leaves.</p><p> </p><p>I hope he's the last person I'll have to convince.</p><p> </p><p>Because with Blackwall, I'd have 5 people who kind of believe me. Him, Varric, Iron Bull, Solas, and Cole.</p><p> </p><p>No. There's no fucking way he's the last person I'll need to convince.</p><p> </p><p>Because if I don't have at least <em>one</em> Advisor convinced, I don't think I'll be able to move forward.</p><p> </p><p>Or stay alive. Or whatever's happening to me in the game.</p><p> </p><p>At least nothing's glitched, or caught on fire, or reset. That's got to be a good sign.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Please</em> let it be an Advisor next," I say to the empty tent.</p><p> </p><p>Cullen walks in. I mentally celebrate.</p><p> </p><p>And briefly wonder why it's only been men who have come to talk to me.</p><p> </p><p>"We drew straws," Cullen says as he sits down. He angles his sword through the chair's arm so he can keep it on while he sits.</p><p> </p><p>"Did you get the short one, or did you insist on coming anyway?"</p><p> </p><p>A single laugh. "Very well. Leliana's very suspicious of you, and she's not likely to keep an open mind if she talks with you right now. Josephine practically trusts you already."</p><p> </p><p>"Which makes you Switzerland."</p><p> </p><p>"Who?" Total confusion.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, it's a country. Where I'm from. Famous for refusing to pick sides in wars. An expression for 'neutral.' Sorry."</p><p> </p><p>"Right." It doesn't make sense to him, but he presses on. "Let's get on with it, shall we? Convince me you aren't a liar or a madwoman."</p><p> </p><p>He says it with a small smile.</p><p> </p><p>Great. This'll be so much fun.</p><p> </p><p>"I didn't mention this in the meeting, but this story is made up of 3 stories. With more coming, hopefully." I lift a finger. "The first story was the Blight that happened in Ferelden, like, ten years ago? The Fifth Blight, I think?" He nods. "It covers that year, from Ostagar to the Archdemon battle."</p><p> </p><p>I raise another finger. "The second story is about Hawke in Kirkwall. So from Ostagar, pretty much, to Hawke becoming a big deal in Kirkwall. I forget their title. It covers...five years? Not ten years, but maybe more than five. Something."</p><p> </p><p>I put up the last finger. "Now we're here. In the Inquisition. It covers the next two years. Maybe three. I don't remember exactly."</p><p> </p><p>"Meaning your knowledge isn't just from recently..."</p><p> </p><p>"Right. I actually remember the Fifth Blight story best. Because while this series is my favorite, the Fifth Blight story is my <em>favorite</em> favorite. And it's where you make your first appearance."</p><p> </p><p>"Meaning?"</p><p> </p><p>"The first time you appear in the story is when you're trapped in that force field in the Circle Tower near Lake Calenhad. And you were <em>freaking out</em> about all the demons. You thought the Hero of Ferelden was a demon in disguise. Got down on your knees and started praying to Andraste. I mean I don't blame you!"</p><p> </p><p>I said it quickly. He is very uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not trying to make fun of you for it or anything! I would have, too. We don't have demons or magic. We've got people who <em>think</em> we do. Maybe we do, but it's not, like, 'a fact' that demons exist. I'd be scared to death, too."</p><p> </p><p>He rests his hands on the pommel of his sword out of habit. "I don't think anyone save the Hero of Ferelden and his companions know about how I acted in the Tower."</p><p> </p><p>"'His?' So the Hero was a man?"</p><p> </p><p>Cullen's surprised.</p><p> </p><p>"Isn't that something you - "</p><p> </p><p>"I should know, right, right. Well, yes and no? I kind of explained this to Varric, only it's...ugh, it's even <em>more</em> complicated than I explained to Varric." I rub my forehead and desperately want a shower. Or even just a washcloth and soap. I'll use snow if I need to. "Jesus Christ..."</p><p> </p><p>"What's Jesus Christ?"</p><p> </p><p>"It's pretty much our version of 'Andraste.' I'm kind of saying it as a curse word, though." I sigh.</p><p> </p><p>I'm tired.</p><p> </p><p>This is taking forever. Like, <em>forever</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And I really should be explaining this to <em>everyone</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Hours must have passed by now. We should be heading to Skyhold.</p><p> </p><p>But I'm still here, trying to convince video game characters to trust me.</p><p> </p><p>And I'm no closer to figuring out how I got here.</p><p> </p><p>Gotta move along. 'Progress the story.'</p><p> </p><p>"In each story, there's a specific main character. For the second story, in Kirkwall, the main character is always Hawke. But Hawke might be a man or a woman. Hawke might have long white hair, or be bald. Hawke's voice might be high or low. The reader gets to choose what Hawke looks and sounds like. They also get to choose Hawke's first name, and what kind of fighting they do, mage, rogue, etcetera. They get to choose who Hawke falls in love with, if anyone. They get to choose if Hawke is witty or a jerk or a saint. They get to make the decisions that Hawke makes."</p><p> </p><p>"Decisions such as...?"</p><p> </p><p>Deep breath. "Like if they kill Anders after he destroys the Chantry, or lets him go."</p><p> </p><p>I don't remember if the result is common knowledge.</p><p> </p><p>"And I don't know what <em>exact </em>decisions have been made in <em>this </em>specific storyline. Which is why I know <em>some</em> things that aren't common knowledge, but I <em>don't know</em> other things that might be. So if all of you decide that you believe me, I'm going to need to be filled in on the history of the past ten years."</p><p> </p><p>He nods slowly. "So what did you think?"</p><p> </p><p>"Of what?"</p><p> </p><p>"Of me, when you first met me?"</p><p> </p><p>I try not to smile. "I liked your hair."</p><p> </p><p>"My..."</p><p> </p><p>"Were you using some sort of pomade or something? To get all those crunchy curls?"</p><p> </p><p>He blushes, embarrassed. "It was a phase." He says it defensively.</p><p> </p><p>"A phase that lasted into Kirkwall." I can't help smiling.</p><p> </p><p>And now he's pouting. "It was a <em>long</em> phase."</p><p> </p><p>"Well your hair looks great, now."</p><p> </p><p>He raises his hand to his hair. "That's a relief."</p><p> </p><p>"For all of us."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Enough</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah." I scratch at my scalp. Still itchy. "Do you think I can be done, now? I think I've been sitting on my ass for like two hours at this point."</p><p> </p><p>He shifts in his seat. "I found out where Skyhold is. Solas pointed it out on one of our maps. He says it used to be a fortress, that the bones of it should still be there if we're lucky."</p><p> </p><p>I'm pretty sure it used to be <em>his</em> fortress.</p><p> </p><p>I wish I had an encyclopedic knowledge of all of <em>Dragon Age</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I've always had wikis or guides to help me remember things about the games.</p><p> </p><p>"So when am I going to find out if you guys trust me or not?"</p><p> </p><p>"We'll meet together and discuss. You're to stay in this tent. With your friend. The quiet boy." He shakes his head again. "Solas has held onto the boy's hand, as you asked. Why did you ask him to do that?"</p><p> </p><p>"Because Cole has a tendency to...disappear." </p><p> </p><p><em>Please</em> don't ask me any more. I'm done explaining things for the day.</p><p> </p><p>"Blackwall's going to sit with you two, keep an eye on you. He's explained his opinion of you to us, and I shouldn't have to remind you that Grey Wardens are formidable fighters. If you try to escape."</p><p> </p><p>I just nod. He'll decide when to tell them he's <em>not</em> a Grey Warden.</p><p> </p><p>Cullen leaves.</p><p> </p><p>Solas, Cole, and Blackwall enter the tent. Solas transfers Cole to me, with another glare, and immediately leaves.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall sits down and starts whittling a stick. For some reason.</p><p> </p><p>"He's making a flute," Cole replies.</p><p> </p><p>"Very perceptive, young man." Blackwall nods appreciatively. "Do you carve?"</p><p> </p><p>"No."</p><p> </p><p>Awkward silence.</p><p> </p><p>"By the way, I'm still going to call you Blackwall." He pauses his whittling. "To me, it's your name. Even if you've got another one."</p><p> </p><p>He resumes whittling.</p><p> </p><p>We wait.</p><p> </p><p>And wait.</p><p> </p><p>Cole fidgets.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall whittles.</p><p> </p><p>I wish for a shower and a nap. And some caffeine.</p><p> </p><p>My phone is safely tucked away in my bra, but I don't risk taking it out. I need somewhere private to look it over.</p><p> </p><p>I have no clue what introducing <em>technology</em> to a Medieval-esque world inside of a video game could do.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing? Or wreak absolute havoc?</p><p> </p><p>Best not test it right now.</p><p> </p><p>Is it another hour? Two?</p><p> </p><p>Leliana strides into the tent, right up to my chair.</p><p> </p><p>"We're leaving for Skyhold."</p><p> </p><p>Pause.</p><p> </p><p>"I expect you to carry your own gear. And keep up with the group. Do <em>not </em>delay us."</p><p> </p><p>Thank Christ, we can finally get the fuck out of here.</p><p> </p><p>How long does the walk take?</p><p> </p><p>It doesn't matter.</p><p> </p><p>I just want to get to Skyhold.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Travel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Downsides of an Open World. A touch of more exposition.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A week.</p><p> </p><p>It takes a fucking <em>week</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A week of stomping through snow. Climbing over mountains. Camping, in all its glory, in the cold.</p><p> </p><p>Moss for toilet paper. Which was not as disgusting as I thought it would be.</p><p> </p><p>I can't get my hands on any soap. One morning I take the last bit of tea (that sweet, blessed caffeine) and water it down with some snow. I use my tank top to swipe my face with it, then rub more snow on my face.</p><p> </p><p>Better.</p><p> </p><p>Not <em>great</em>. I can't do anything for my scalp.</p><p> </p><p>But better.</p><p> </p><p>I hold Cole's hand as often as I can. I like having him around.</p><p> </p><p>He's like a safety blanket.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not a blanket," he says.</p><p> </p><p>Theory time.</p><p> </p><p>I close my eyes. I try to zero in on what 'safety blanket' <em>feels</em> like. A literal blanket when it's cold and you're sad. Talking to a friend when you're crying over heartbreak. Someone you trust leading you through a crowd at the zoo.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh."</p><p> </p><p>I wonder if I'm just using him. If I could be a better friend to him.</p><p> </p><p>"I like helping people. I like helping you."</p><p> </p><p>I squeeze his hand and focus again. Thankful.</p><p> </p><p>I know he goes off and helps around the camp when he's not around me. I have to remind people who he is when he appears around me. That might change eventually.</p><p> </p><p>It'll depend on Halea.</p><p> </p><p>Over the trip I'm able to get information on the history of this particular playthrough.</p><p> </p><p>It's super fucking awkward, but Leliana eventually fills me in for <em>Origins.</em></p>
<ul>
<li>The Hero of Ferelden was a male Dalish Elf. (I thought of Tamlen turning into a Shriek. I didn't ask Leliana if she knew about that.)</li>
<li>A rogue.</li>
<li>He fell in love with Morrigan.</li>
<li>And he landed the killing blow on the Archdemon but didn't die. Which means there's an old god baby out there.</li>
<li>He recruited all of the companions but Loghain, who died in a duel with Alistair. (Shale was recruited, too)</li>
<li>So it only had a little in common with my ideal playthrough (female Cousland, Alistair).</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Varric is only too happy to retell the story from <em>DAII.</em></p>
<ul>
<li>Hawke is Garrett Hawke, male, human (of course).</li>
<li>Fighter.</li>
<li>In love with Anders, so he sympathized with mages (of course Fenris hated that).</li>
<li>He let Anders go.</li>
<li>He killed the Arishok.</li>
<li>The complete opposite of my playthrough (female Hawke, Fenris, rogue, Arishok is alive. The first time, I didn't let Anders go. I remembered staring at my screen, yelling 'WHAT' when the Chantry exploded. The betrayal felt so <em>real</em>. I've gone back and forth in other playthroughs. It feels normal to say back when this was all fiction to me.)</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Which means that even though I'm walking around in my most recent playthrough of <em>Inquisition</em>, with Halea as a mage, things are going to be different from what the world state would be if I was still at home.</p><p> </p><p>On my couch.</p><p> </p><p>Just playing a video game. Instead of living in it.</p><p> </p><p>I cry a few nights. Not constantly. I try to fall asleep fast, but it's harder to do than I thought. Even after a full day of hiking.</p><p> </p><p>And when it hits, the knowledge that I don't have any control or explanation for how this happened, or the idea that I might never make it home...it hits hard.</p><p> </p><p>It hurts <em>so fucking much</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A lot of the Companions treat me kindly.</p><p> </p><p>Most of them, actually.</p><p> </p><p>Only Leliana is suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>Which is...suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>They should <em>all</em> be wary of me. I mean, I sound like an insane person. Even to <em>me</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Then I remember I'm still <em>inside a video game</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It's set up so that, if <em>you</em> want to, you can make everyone your friend.</p><p> </p><p>They're literally <em>programmed</em> to be open to being friends with you.</p><p> </p><p>With me.</p><p> </p><p>I guess that means I'm mostly saying the right things, choosing the correct real-life dialogue options.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn't go very smoothly with Sera, Dorian, and Vivienne. I always had a harder time with their conversations.</p><p> </p><p>Attempting witty retorts at the wrong time, mixing up the Orlesian-socially-acceptable responses, not understanding Sera's humor.</p><p> </p><p>But it looks like I have time to work on them.</p><p> </p><p>After all, I have no idea when I'll be going home.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>If.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Then we reach Skyhold.</p><p> </p><p>After a <em>FUCKING</em> week.</p><p> </p><p>The cutscene begins, and Halea tells the crowd that she'll head up the Inquisition because she wants to Do What's Right, and she brings up that she's going to show all of Thedas what an Elf can do.</p><p> </p><p>What she says in her speech is the first decision she's made while I've been here.</p><p> </p><p>I would have chosen Do What's Right, but I would have probably mentioned something about being a mage instead of the Elf line.</p><p> </p><p>She must have been talking with Solas a lot more, because he nods in approval. Sera sneers. Everyone else just looks happy to be here.</p><p> </p><p>Halea made a decision that's different from what I would have chosen.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it should have been obvious, but now it's crystal clear to me.</p><p> </p><p>She's <em>my</em> Inquisitor, but I'm <em>not</em> in charge of her.</p><p> </p><p>I don't actually feel that surprised. It's just good to know.</p><p> </p><p>The first thing I get to do after the cutscene is take a bath. Josephine smiles as she hands me new clothes (same as the old clothes) and two rags before I go in. She also hands my a small bottle of some kind of oil. I remove the stopper and sniff it. Rosemary and lavender, or whatever they call the Thedas versions.</p><p> </p><p>It's the best non-food smell I've smelled all week.</p><p> </p><p>"A visit to the bathing room is always the second thing I do when I finish a long journey. The first is unpack. It helps me mark the end of my travels."</p><p> </p><p>I'm not the only person in the bathing room, so I mimic what the other women do while trying to not look like I'm creeping on them.</p><p> </p><p>There are bars of soap - <em>soap!</em> - in a basket in the bathing room. The soap doesn't have a great smell, but it works.  </p><p> </p><p>No one gets <em>into</em> the vats of water that are around the room. They stand next to them. One of the rags is to get the water from the vats on you, the other is for drying. Take one of the bars of soap. Lather. Use the same rag or cupped hands to get the soap off. Repeat if needed.</p><p> </p><p>It's very needed.</p><p> </p><p>No one else is washing their hair, so I take a guess. I lather some soap in my hands and try to apply it on my scalp. I cup water over my head to rinse, letting the water fall on the stone floor outside of the vat. Trying to keep the water clean for other people. I think I see someone look my way with approval. A good sign.</p><p> </p><p>My scalp feels a lot less itchy. But now it and my hair are very, very dry. I guess this is why Josephine handed me the oil.</p><p> </p><p>I put on the new clothes and carry the dirty ones with me. I get outside of the bathing room and realize I have no idea where to go.</p><p> </p><p>"Lost, my dear?"</p><p> </p><p>Vivienne. Conveniently walking down the hallway, just in time.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes. I don't know where I'm supposed to stay."</p><p> </p><p>She considers me.</p><p> </p><p>"You may place your things in my room until they decide, if you'd like."</p><p> </p><p>Her 'room' is an open overlook of the main room of the main hall in Skyhold. As far as I can tell. Maybe she sleeps somewhere else.</p><p> </p><p>She waves at the dirty clothes in my hands. "And <em>those</em> should be laundered. We'll find someone to take them for you."</p><p> </p><p>Vivienne flags down someone in a hallway on the way to her 'room' to take my old clothes. Regular laundering is apparently something Josephine insists on, so she's already had it set up. I put the leather pouch with my real-world clothes, cell phone, and vial of hair oil with Vivienne's things on the overlook. Her 'room.' </p><p> </p><p>In Vivienne's 'room,' I take the vial of oil out and stare at it. She's heading for the door when she notices the vial.</p><p> </p><p>"It's for your hair." She says with a smile. "You should consider a braid."</p><p> </p><p>She glides into the hallway, probably going to consult with Josephine about nobles.</p><p> </p><p>I dab some of the oil on my fingers and comb it through my hair, patting it on particularly dry patches of scalp. The oil helps school my hair into a braid, and I use my headband as a makeshift hair tie again.</p><p> </p><p>I use a little bit of the oil on my pits, too. Deodorant doesn't exist here, as I learned firsthand during the weeklong hike here. I'm not sure if it'll help, and I don't want to use too much. I need to return it to Josephine.</p><p> </p><p>But having to get used to my own stink <em>and</em> the stink of everyone around me has been a journey on its own.</p><p> </p><p>The unglamorous side of a Medieval-esque fantasy video game. One I would never experience if I hadn't been transported here.</p><p> </p><p>I walk out onto the balcony of Vivienne's 'room.'</p><p> </p><p>Skyhold really <em>is</em> run down. I know it'll come together as the Inquisition gets rolling, but it's kind of a sad sight.</p><p> </p><p>"What now?"</p><p> </p><p>I jolt when Cole speaks, appearing on the railing of the balcony.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Dammit</em>. God. <em>Jesus</em>." I catch my breath. "Has Halea asked you to join the Inquisition yet?"</p><p> </p><p>He shakes his floppy hat. "Soon."</p><p> </p><p>He might have poofed here from his appearance in the War Room.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I think...I'll go to the kitchens and see if I can make myself useful. Do something normal."</p><p> </p><p>Cole nods and poofs away. I see him reappear near the medical tents and begin tending to patients.</p><p> </p><p>I walk back into the main hall, ready to focus on finding the kitchens.</p><p> </p><p>To focus on anything except how not normal everything is.</p><p> </p><p>I just want to feel a little normal.</p><p> </p><p>Until I can check in with the newly promoted Inquisitor.</p><p> </p><p>If she'll talk to me.</p><p> </p><p>We haven't spoken a word to one another.</p><p> </p><p>She's been avoiding me.</p><p> </p><p>I've been avoiding her.</p><p> </p><p>Because <em>how the fuck</em> do you tell someone that you know things about them <em>because you created them</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>And controlled them</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And what's my place in the Inquisition...</p><p> </p><p>...If I'm not the Inquisitor?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Crafting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Do you really want to know how it happens?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Butter.</p><p> </p><p>Sugar.</p><p> </p><p>Flour.</p><p> </p><p>Salt.</p><p> </p><p>It takes me a long, long time to convince the cook to give me some of each.</p><p> </p><p>I just want to make shortbread cookies, to prove my baking skills.</p><p> </p><p>I'll even try making a <em>single</em> shortbread cookie if I need to.</p><p> </p><p>It's a fierce battle. These are precious ingredients.</p><p> </p><p>But the cook finally relents. </p><p> </p><p>I eyeball the ingredient ratios. The cook is somewhat pleased when I only take a little of each ingredient.</p><p> </p><p>Enough for six cookies.</p><p> </p><p>I mix everything up, then use the paddle to slide the cookies into the bread oven. A fire underneath it keeps it warm.</p><p> </p><p>Thirty minutes.</p><p> </p><p>Shortbread cookies take a lot longer than the standard chocolate chip cookie. But they're simpler. And only use ingredients that I could actually find here.</p><p> </p><p>They didn't have baking soda in Ye Olde Times.</p><p> </p><p>I check on the cookies, then slide them out. They're done enough. If the cook likes these, I might have to get the blacksmith...they have a blacksmith, right?...to make a cookie sheet for me.</p><p> </p><p>I stand in front of the cook, hands squeezed together.</p><p> </p><p>One bite. Eyes go wide.</p><p> </p><p>"Andraste's ass, these are good. You start tomorrow before dawn."</p><p> </p><p><em>Success</em>!</p><p> </p><p>I take the other five cookies with me, biting into one for myself. It tastes different from the ones I make at home, because none of the ingredients are made the same. Medieval-esque flour is a <em>lot</em> different from the All-Purpose flour I can get at the store. Same for sugar and butter.</p><p> </p><p>But it's a pretty damn good cookie.</p><p> </p><p>Sera is standing outside in the sunshine as I walk towards the main hall.</p><p> </p><p>"Here." I hold out a cookie.</p><p> </p><p>"What's this?"</p><p> </p><p>I take another bite of mine. "It's a carrot, of course."</p><p> </p><p>Nothing. Then a snort.</p><p> </p><p>"Weird's what you are," she says. She bites into the cookie. "Wow! D'you make this?"</p><p> </p><p>I nod. "You're looking at the new baker of the Skyhold kitchens."</p><p> </p><p>"Guess we'll have to be friends, then, right? Friends means free cookies."</p><p> </p><p>I remember that there's something about Sera and cookies. Something that makes them significant.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll save you a few cookies whenever we make them."</p><p> </p><p>"Cause we're friends." She's being serious.</p><p> </p><p>"Seems like we are," I say with a smile. She shoves the rest of the cookie in her mouth, cheeks puffing out.</p><p> </p><p>The game wants us to be friends. So now we are.</p><p> </p><p>Three more cookies.</p><p> </p><p>I head for Varric's spot by a fireplace in the main hall and hand him one.</p><p> </p><p>"How are you settling in, Freckles?"</p><p> </p><p>"Good. I've got a job in the kitchens. That's my audition."</p><p> </p><p>A bite.</p><p> </p><p>"Not bad. If I was the cook, I would have hired you too."</p><p> </p><p>"Any chance you've seen Halea?"</p><p> </p><p>He nods towards a doorway behind him.</p><p> </p><p>"She just went to talk with Chuckles."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh. <em>Oh</em>! This could be..."</p><p> </p><p>"Could be what?"</p><p> </p><p>I sit on the short bench near him and lean over. "This could be the time they go to The Fade and make out. Kiss a lot."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Really</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>I nod eagerly. "<em>With tongue</em>."</p><p> </p><p>He considers the new information I've just given him. "Have you seen the library, yet? It just upstairs."</p><p> </p><p>"And has an overlook into Solas' study?"</p><p> </p><p>"Does it? I can't remember." He shrugs and smiles. "Guess we'll find out."</p><p> </p><p>We sneak up to the library and look down into the large circular room where Solas has stationed himself.</p><p> </p><p>He and Halea are talking. We can hear them <em>very </em>clearly.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I'm interested in what you told me of yourself and your studies."</span> She walks around his desk, trailing her hand along its edge.</p><p> </p><p>Definitely different from the cutscene.</p><p> </p><p>She walks to face him near the side of the room. Standing much, much closer to him than in the scene.</p><p> </p><p>"She's really going for it," I whisper.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">If you have time, I'd like to hear more.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>They're almost nose-to-nose.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You continue to surprise me.</span>" He says it with a little bit of amazement in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>"And he's hooked," Varric whispers back.</p><p> </p><p>It's almost like watching a romance movie with a friend, commentating what's happening on screen.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">All right, let us talk...</span>" Solas motions towards the doorway. "<span class="u">Preferably somewhere more interesting than this</span>."</p><p> </p><p>Halea nods, then turns and starts making her way towards the door. Slowly. A smile on her face. She's hoping he's looking at her walk.</p><p> </p><p>He is.</p><p> </p><p>Then.</p><p> </p><p>He starts walking forward and makes a motion with his hand, whispering something that I can't understand.</p><p> </p><p>Halea falters, then falls, asleep before she can set her foot down. He reaches out and catches her. Holds her for one second too long.</p><p> </p><p>Then starts carrying her towards the door.</p><p> </p><p>"What the hell?" Varric lowers his eyebrows. "What the fuck did he just do?" He is no longer amused.</p><p> </p><p>I didn't realize how sketchy it looked, either.</p><p> </p><p>"It looks like a sleeping spell," I offer. It's one of the theories.</p><p> </p><p>Varric doesn't say anything, watching Solas closely.</p><p> </p><p>Then I realize.</p><p> </p><p>I wonder how many times Varric's kept an eye on a girl at the Hanged Man. How many has he watched over? Protected?</p><p> </p><p>Varric stands and starts for the stairs, but I grab his sleeve.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Grab his sleeve?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Maybe the game's starting to influence <em>me</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"He's taking her to her room <em>but he doesn't do anything</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Varric glares at me.</p><p> </p><p>"You <em>sure</em> about that?"</p><p> </p><p>Am I?</p><p> </p><p>It's a theory.</p><p> </p><p>A very well-established theory.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes. But...if you want to follow him, I won't stop you." I let go of his sleeve.</p><p> </p><p>He turns and leaves.</p><p> </p><p>I stay, overlooking the empty study and the just-started murals.</p><p> </p><p>Holy <em>shit</em>. Holy <em>fuck</em>. I'd never thought about how bad it looked.</p><p> </p><p>It looks bad.</p><p> </p><p>It looks <em>bad</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I get more worried the longer all three of them are gone.</p><p> </p><p>A few minutes later, Solas walks back into the study.</p><p> </p><p>Alone.</p><p> </p><p>I hear Varric sit down next to me. "You were right. He just put her on her bed and turned around."</p><p> </p><p>"Doesn't really make it any less creepy," I whisper. Varric nods.</p><p> </p><p>Solas sits in his chair. Waves his hand and mumbles again. His head falls back.</p><p> </p><p>He's asleep.</p><p> </p><p>A few seconds pass. He stays asleep.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, they should be in The Fade now."</p><p> </p><p>"Is <em>this</em> how your book described it?"</p><p> </p><p>"No. It's not." It's my turn to stand up. "Let's go back to your spot by the fireplace."</p><p> </p><p>We're quiet, sitting next to the flames for a bit. He's gotten his hands on a tankard of ale, and I was able to track down some tea.</p><p> </p><p>"What the fuck did I just see, Freckles?"</p><p> </p><p>"Remember what I told you, about how the story works in <em>my</em> world?" He nods. "The reader doesn't just make the decisions <em>for</em> the characters. The reader gets to <em>be</em> a character. The <em>main</em> character."</p><p> </p><p>He leans back and looks at me. Trying to decide if I've finally cracked.</p><p> </p><p>"You asked Hawke for advice when you went through everything with your brother, right?"</p><p> </p><p>Try to be delicate. Try to do this right.</p><p> </p><p>He nods.</p><p> </p><p>"When I was 'reading' the story, it wasn't from an observer's standpoint. I <em>was</em> Hawke. When you asked Hawke for advice, you asked <em>me</em> for advice. That's how I end up making decisions in the stories. Because I'm the main character. But, not actually <em>me</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"So for this one, you're Halea."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah...and I really should talk to her about that at some point..."</p><p> </p><p>He takes a gulp of ale. "Tell me. What was <em>that</em> like for <em>her</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>I grip the mug of tea in my hands. "It's romantic. Like, all of us who 'read' it joke about how creepy it must have looked from the outside, but the scene itself is romantic, if you let it be - That...sounds bad, there's got to be a better way to explain this."</p><p> </p><p>Deep breath. I am a master of deep breathing.</p><p> </p><p>"You said you pretty much <em>were</em> Halea. Tell it like you're her." Varric takes another gulp.</p><p> </p><p>"We've just moved into Skyhold, and I want to go talk with Solas. After everything in Haven, after becoming the Inquisitor, I need to talk to someone. And he and I have been growing close. Flirting. Something about him is calm and reassuring. So I find him in his study. I get him to tell me about his travels in The Fade, what he's learned. It's probably the tenth time I've asked him about himself. And it's like he <em>finally</em> gets that it's not just small talk. I really <em>am</em> interested in learning about him."</p><p> </p><p>I sit back and swirl the lukewarm tea in my mug. "So he says <span class="u">somewhere more interesting than this</span>, and we turn to walk out of the room, but the next thing I know I'm back in Haven. Nothing's destroyed, or on fire. We're the only people there. We wander through Haven and talk. And he tells me about how I fascinate him, how I've changed the entire world for him. I kiss him after calling him a <span class="u">sweet talker</span>. And he's surprised for a second, but smiles and practically dives right back in. <em>Twice</em>. And with <span class="u">Fade tongue</span>." Despite myself I smile. Possibly one of the best lines ever. "Then he tells me to <span class="u">wake up</span>, and I do. Back in my bed. Alone and dressed. And then I go find him, talk to him, and he's embarrassed that he was <em>so</em> into me, but I'm not. So we decide to see where it goes."</p><p> </p><p>I set the mug on the bench next to me. "Or I can choose to end it. And I <em>choose</em> whether or not to kiss him. In The Fade. The End."</p><p> </p><p>He looks into the fire. Gulps ale.</p><p> </p><p>Another gulp.</p><p> </p><p>"Fine."</p><p> </p><p>I stay quiet.</p><p> </p><p>"If I was writing that scene...it's possible I'd write the same thing." He shakes his head. "It doesn't look right from the outside, though."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah..."</p><p> </p><p>He knocks his empty tankard on the arm of his chair.</p><p> </p><p>I look up and see Halea walking back towards the study. Her eyes are bright. There's a smile on her face. She's walking quickly. "Varric, look."</p><p> </p><p>He turns and watches her.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn't notice us. She only has eyes for the doorway that leads her to <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Varric sighs.</p><p> </p><p>In relief.</p><p> </p><p>He goes to sip from his tankard, then realizes it's empty. "Chuckles could have just <em>asked</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"I'll let the writers know. But some would argue it would ruin the romance and mystery."</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs and stands. "To each their own. I'm off in search of more ale."</p><p> </p><p>I offer him another cookie, which he takes. He salutes me with it as he heads towards wherever he found the ale.</p><p> </p><p>One cookie left.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>UPSET? READ ME! The first time I watched the Solas and Inquisitor Fade scene, and the Inquisitor woke up in her room, I thought it was /hilarious/ and /ridiculous./ I remember calling, legitimately /calling,/ a friend to laugh about it. 'How did that even happen?! Did he knock me out?! Why did he trap me in my room?!' [I couldn't figure out where the door to the Inquisitor's room was, so I thought Solas had trapped me, like he was playing The Sims: Ferelden Edition. Turns out I was just dumb and couldn't figure out where the fucking door was.] I've seen a few of the comics that also joke about how Solas could have gotten the Inquisitor into The Fade and laughed along with them. But as I was writing THIS view of it, it kind of hit me: I think this scene would look something close to downright /scary,/ and I don't think Varric would be on board with the way it looks from the outside. I am NOT IN ANY WAY trying to say that the original scene isn't romantic from the Inquisitor's POV - it makes me blush along with the best of them - but I think that to anyone watching from the OUTSIDE, this would look super fucking sketchy. Hope you get where I'm coming from!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Recruiting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hope you maxed out your Persuasion.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Halea walks out of Solas' study.</p><p> </p><p>Not as eagerly as she had walked in, but still with sparkling eyes and a smile on her face.</p><p> </p><p>"He wants time to think about it, right?"</p><p> </p><p>She stops and stares at me.</p><p> </p><p>"How did you...were you eavesdropping on us?"</p><p> </p><p>"No. But we should talk. We've needed to talk for the past week."</p><p> </p><p>She nods, brows drawn in determination. "We can talk in my room."</p><p> </p><p>I follow her up to the Inquisitor's room.</p><p> </p><p>I forgot how bare it is when we first get to Skyhold.</p><p> </p><p>She's embarrassed. "I haven't had a chance to get...another chair...up here."</p><p> </p><p>I look at the arches near the simple bed. "Think there's a barrel or box that's light enough to move?"</p><p> </p><p>"How do you - "</p><p> </p><p>"I'll check. You eat this, I saved it for you." I hand her my last cookie. She stares at it as I roll a barrel towards her desk. "It's just a cookie. I got a job as one of the bakers in the kitchens starting tomorrow. And Sera and Varric thought they were good."</p><p> </p><p>I hop up onto the barrel and tap my heels against its sides.</p><p> </p><p>She looks at me, then back at the cookie, and cautiously takes a bite.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh. It <em>is</em> good." She sets the rest of it on her desk and sits down. "Who exactly <em>are</em> you?"</p><p> </p><p>"You would have known a little bit about me if you had met with me like everyone else." I'm only a <em>little</em> bitter that she's been avoiding me.</p><p> </p><p>Even though I've been avoiding her, too.</p><p> </p><p>"You mean, the day after I barely survived making it out of Haven alive?" She raises an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, what about <em>during</em> the journey here?"</p><p> </p><p>She sighs. "The truth is I didn't want to talk to you. Not yet."</p><p> </p><p>She looks down, then back up at me.</p><p> </p><p>"I survived Haven, just like you said I would." She stands and looks out one of the windows in her room. "And that campfire was lit, like you promised. I walked towards it, knowing I would be okay. Because <em>you</em> said I would be."</p><p> </p><p>She turns back and looks at me. "What I don't get is <em>how</em> you knew. And from what the others have been telling me, it doesn't sound like you've been able to really explain it either. Not in a way that makes sense to <em>me</em>."</p><p> </p><p>She begins pacing around.</p><p> </p><p>If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was a cutscene.</p><p> </p><p>"You've told everyone that everything, our <em>lives</em>, are all just some fairytale that you've read in a book in <em>your world</em>, and you were transported here against your will. And that <em>you're</em> the one who's made the decisions for the characters?"</p><p> </p><p>She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms, continuing to pace. "No, that's not quite it, is it? You <em>are</em> the characters. The main characters. The Hero of Ferelden. The Champion of Kirkwall."</p><p> </p><p>She stops in front of me.</p><p> </p><p>"And the Inquisitor."</p><p> </p><p>Pause. For effect.</p><p> </p><p>"And even <em>that</em> isn't quite right. You aren't just the main characters. You <em>make</em> the main characters. But I don't see how that could be possible."</p><p> </p><p>Another pause.</p><p> </p><p>"I have my clan. I remember my childhood. How could you possibly say you <em>created me</em> when I remember all of that?"</p><p> </p><p>She's fucking <em>pissed</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't think you did. Do you want to know what I think you are?"</p><p> </p><p>Let's see:</p><p> </p><p>Demon?</p><p> </p><p>Time magic?</p><p> </p><p>Crazy?</p><p> </p><p>"A charlatan."</p><p> </p><p>Ah.</p><p> </p><p>A <em>liar</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, she is going to <em>hate</em> Trespasser.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm going to give you one last chance to tell me who you are, and how you know what you know."</p><p> </p><p>She sits back down, positioning her self in the chair as if she was on the throne downstairs.</p><p> </p><p>Ready to pass judgement.</p><p> </p><p>Waiting.</p><p> </p><p>"Well," I sigh. "I probably won't make any more sense to you. Because you've pretty much got everything."</p><p> </p><p>I kick a heel against the side of the barrel.</p><p> </p><p>"In my world, you are all in a story, that has many copies, that a ton of people 'read,' and 're-read' all the time. And certain things you do, say, and choose are up to each individual 'reader.' Those things can change the outcome of certain parts of the story. There's an overall plot that goes forward no matter what, but the <em>paths</em> the plot goes down changes, depending on what the 'reader' wants to do. And every time the 'reader' goes back through the story, they can choose to change their previous choices. So one 'reader' can have several different outcomes for each story, and if you somehow multiply that by all the people who have 'read' it -"</p><p> </p><p>Halea slams her hand on her desk. "<em>Enough</em>." She glares at me. "I don't care about any of that. None of it makes sense anyway. I care about you coming in here and thinking that you can just take over the Inquisition. Over <em>me</em>. You <em>do not</em> get to make decisions for <em>me</em>. I am <em>not your puppet</em>. I am not <em>you</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I raise my hands. "You're right."</p><p> </p><p>She looks skeptical.</p><p> </p><p>"You're right, I can't control you, or make decisions for you, <em>because I'm here</em>. I'm not going to <em>force</em> you to do anything while I'm here! I'm <em>in</em> this story, not just 'reading' it on my couch at home! And that's where I'd rather be, Halea! <em>I want to go home</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>She stands up and slams both of her hands on the desk. "So <em>why don't you</em>?!"</p><p> </p><p>"Because I. DON'T. KNOW. HOW. I. GOT. HERE."</p><p> </p><p>She's about to argue when I hop off the barrel and slam my hands on the desk opposite of her.</p><p> </p><p>"In my world, <em>we don't have magic</em>. At <em>all</em>. No one can just say a few words, do a few gestures, and <em>throw a fucking fireball</em>. It <em>doesn't exist </em>there. So the fact that I was transported here, <em>probably by magic</em>, DOESN'T MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE."</p><p> </p><p>She stares at me.</p><p> </p><p>"No magic? As in...<em>none</em>?<em>"</em></p><p> </p><p>I shake my head. "It's literally a different world. No lyrium, no Veil or Fade, no magic."</p><p> </p><p>She sits back down in her chair, disturbed. "I know not everyone can wield magic here. I don't know what my life would be like without it. Getting cut off from magic would be like someone tearing my heart out of my chest. But to live in a world where <em>no one</em> has it...I...I'm sorry for you."</p><p> </p><p>"We've got other things going for us. But thanks."</p><p> </p><p>She nods. "So, if <em>you</em> didn't transport yourself here...if it's literally impossible for that to happen in your world...then you must be as clueless about <em>why</em> you're here as we are."</p><p> </p><p>I lean against the barrel. "Yep. No fucking clue why I'm here. But I know things that are going to happen. Some things. I <em>remember</em> some things that happen. I can give you advice on what <em>might</em> happen. And I'm hoping that I can convince Solas to look into how I got here, while earning my keep with what I remember. And by working in the kitchens. I mean, I bake a damn good cookie."</p><p> </p><p>Halea reaches for the half-eaten cookie and bites into it again. "You keep saying things like 'remember' and 'might.' Do you know what's going to happen or not?"</p><p> </p><p>I start rubbing at my face, finding new almost-acne spots. "Do you remember every detail of every story you hear, or every book you read?"</p><p> </p><p>Halea shakes her head.</p><p> </p><p>"Me neither. Some people do...and I really wish I was one of them. And not just while I'm <em>here</em>. I wish I remembered things better back in my world. But I'm just me, and my memory isn't great. I want to help, and I want to tell you guys what I know. But 'know' might be a strong word...I don't want you to blindly accept <em>everything</em> I say, because there's a chance I could be wrong. But there are some things that I <em>know</em> that I know."</p><p> </p><p>"So you want to offer us advice, and you want us to question you, unless you insist that we don't question you?" She raises a brow, but has a faint smile on her face.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, something like that." Deep breath. "Well, Inquisitor Halea, what's your verdict?"</p><p> </p><p>She leans back and looks me over.</p><p> </p><p>And doesn't say anything.</p><p> </p><p>And doesn't say anything.</p><p> </p><p>Is she even moving?</p><p> </p><p>Oh fuck.</p><p> </p><p>Oh shit, oh fuck, oh <em>shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Is she frozen?!</p><p> </p><p>Did I break the game?!</p><p> </p><p>Then her facial expression changes to one of worry. "What's wrong? You just went pale for some reason!"</p><p> </p><p>She was thinking.</p><p> </p><p>Thank <em>Christ</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"I, sorry, I thought, maybe...I thought I'd broken the story, maybe. You were really still and didn't say anything...it's nothing."</p><p> </p><p>"Why would you be worried about...'<em>breaking</em>' the story?"</p><p> </p><p><em>FUCK</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"I...I don't know how the changes I make affect this world. And I'm kind of scared about what would happen if I <em>majorly</em> changed the story. Small changes seem to be okay so far, as long as the plot overall keeps going the same direction. Maybe I'm thinking too much of myself, too, like I don't even know if I <em>could</em> make a major change."</p><p> </p><p>"Is there?"</p><p> </p><p>"Is there what?"</p><p> </p><p>"Is there a major change you would make, if you could?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes <em>but before you ask</em> I want to wait to tell you."</p><p> </p><p>Another raised eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>I can practically see the -25 Disapprove above her head.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Why</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"I just think...it'd be better to see how influencing <em>little</em> things goes. Like, wait until the first time I give you advice and see how it goes first. If it's a total disaster, then I won't be able to change anything big."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>And</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>Damn. She's good.</p><p> </p><p>Just a few minutes of talking with me and it's like she already knows me.</p><p> </p><p>Which is fair, since I pretty much already know her, too.</p><p> </p><p>"And...I don't want to get it in my head that I can make that change, just to let myself down."</p><p> </p><p>She looks at me. "Does this possibly have to do with a <em>romantic</em> decision that you made while you...were a main character?"</p><p> </p><p>My bright red face says everything.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes widen. "It's not -"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>NO</em>, no no no, <em>not</em> Solas."</p><p> </p><p>Her cheeks turn red, too. "Good. Not that anything's for certain -"</p><p> </p><p>"No need to explain, Halea. <em>Trust me</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Silence as our faces cool off.</p><p> </p><p>She clears her throat. "Are you going to tell me who it is, or when to expect them?"</p><p> </p><p>"Honestly? I hope I don't see him at all."</p><p> </p><p>Confusion replaces the retreating blush on her face. "Why?"</p><p> </p><p>"Because if I see him...it'll mean he's in danger. I think I <em>will</em> see him. But I <em>hope</em> I don't."</p><p> </p><p>She stands up and walks around her desk. "Then I hope you don't either..."</p><p> </p><p>She holds her hand out to me.</p><p> </p><p>"...Advisor."</p><p> </p><p>I shake her hand. "Salome, by the way. Just to make it official."</p><p> </p><p>"Halea. Officially. We'll see what's on the agenda tomorrow and see if we can find a small decision for you to be in charge of. Other than cookies."</p><p> </p><p>We start heading out of her room.</p><p> </p><p>"That reminds me, you're going to have to tell me how people know when to get up for work. I'm supposed to be in the kitchens 'before dawn.' How am I going to know when 'before dawn' is when I'm asleep? Also, <em>where</em> am I going to sleep?"</p><p> </p><p>She pats my shoulder. "We'll get everything settled. Welcome to the Inquisition."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Short Rest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Should take about 20 minutes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They put me in one of the rooms above the gardens.</p><p> </p><p>What will soon be the gardens.</p><p> </p><p>I have to crouch under scaffolding to get to my room, but I have it to myself.</p><p> </p><p>I thought I was going to be with the other kitchen workers, but it looks like the game's willing to let me have a personal space like the rest of the Advisors and Companions.</p><p> </p><p>I take my phone out and stare at it.</p><p> </p><p>I haven't touched it since the first day. When I crashed into the ruins of the Conclave. After falling from the fucking sky.</p><p> </p><p>I light the screen up again.</p><p> </p><p>It's still on the same time.</p><p> </p><p>The same date.</p><p> </p><p>'No Service' where the bars should be.</p><p> </p><p>And the battery hasn't gone down.</p><p> </p><p>Even though it's been on for over a week.</p><p> </p><p>"Night Vale physics?" I ask myself as I stare at my phone.</p><p> </p><p>And there's the game again. Influencing me. Because why wouldn't I just <em>think </em>'Night Vale physics?' to myself.</p><p> </p><p>Why would I have to say it out loud?</p><p> </p><p>For the audience.</p><p> </p><p>For the player.</p><p> </p><p>I open the phone and tap the app for the web browser.</p><p> </p><p>Let's try for the Internet.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...cannot open page...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Because that would make it just too fucking easy.</p><p> </p><p>I tap a few more apps.</p><p> </p><p>Nope.</p><p> </p><p>Nope.</p><p> </p><p>Nope.</p><p> </p><p>My finger hovers over the next one, but I don't press it.</p><p> </p><p>The apps I've been trying to open.</p><p> </p><p>They are my only ways of talking to my family. My friends.</p><p> </p><p>Telling everyone I'm okay.</p><p> </p><p>Alive.</p><p> </p><p>To tell someone I'm scared and I just want to go home.</p><p> </p><p>To ask for help.</p><p> </p><p>To hear someone's voice.</p><p> </p><p>I drop it on the bed next to me and cry.</p><p> </p><p>"Shit. Shit, <em>fuck</em>, goddammit, <em>fucking bullshit</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I curse and cry.</p><p> </p><p>Until I'm too tired to keep crying.</p><p> </p><p>The sun's gone down.</p><p> </p><p>I rub my tears and snot away with my hands, rub my hands on my pants.</p><p> </p><p>I hold out my hand.</p><p> </p><p>Cole takes it.</p><p> </p><p>"You're sad."</p><p> </p><p>It makes me laugh.</p><p> </p><p>"No shit."</p><p> </p><p>"You haven't eaten. You should eat."</p><p> </p><p>I realize I didn't save a cookie for him.</p><p> </p><p>"It's alright." But I shake my head.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll save you one when I make more. I'm sure I'll end up making more cookies at some point."</p><p> </p><p>He brings out a plum. Was it in his hand? Did it appear there? Was it in his pocket?</p><p> </p><p>"You can have this."</p><p> </p><p>But he needs it for spiderwebs or something.</p><p> </p><p>"There are more."</p><p> </p><p>"Cole, will -"</p><p> </p><p>He nods, his hat flopping. "I'll stay until you're asleep."</p><p> </p><p>I eat the slightly unripe plum while more tears and snot fall.</p><p> </p><p>Cole holds his hand out for the pit. Probably so he can go plant it after I fall asleep.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes."</p><p> </p><p>I've gotten used to him reading my mind when we're alone.</p><p> </p><p>But I try not to think about home when I'm around him.</p><p> </p><p>I don't know what seeing my world will do to him.</p><p> </p><p>"It doesn't make sense."</p><p> </p><p>Right. Mind reading. Shit.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't understand how pictures come alive, and with sounds. And you can make people in the picture do things sometimes? I've seen me. Like a mirror but not."</p><p> </p><p>He's seen the game. <em>Shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"That's what I mean when I talk about all of this being a story in my world, Cole."</p><p> </p><p>He nods.</p><p> </p><p>"Do I have to take off my hat? When I get the flowers?"</p><p> </p><p>I smile. "We can try putting the flowers around here instead." I tap the metal brim of the center part of his hat.</p><p> </p><p>"Good. I like my hat."</p><p> </p><p>I use a pitcher of water and large bowl to wash off my hands and face, using a rag next to them to dry off.</p><p> </p><p>No soap. I'll have to see if I can pitch modern hand washing to Josephine.</p><p> </p><p>I pull my boots off and pull the blankets and furs over me. They look the same as the ones for the cot while we were camping.</p><p> </p><p>Reusing resources.</p><p> </p><p>Cole sits on the floor next to the bed, holding my hand.</p><p> </p><p>Holding hands.</p><p> </p><p>With a not-ghost who looks <em>maybe</em> twenty.</p><p> </p><p>So I'm not scared to fall asleep.</p><p> </p><p>I'm a real adult. Absolutely.</p><p> </p><p>"Scared is for anyone," he says in a quiet voice.</p><p> </p><p>I close my eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll make sure you wake up."</p><p> </p><p>I focus and squeeze his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Thankful.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Farming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Take care of the details.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cole keeps his promise.</p><p> </p><p>I almost scream.</p><p> </p><p>He's still sitting next to the bed. Or he's reappeared in his same spot. Either.</p><p> </p><p>Just like the ghost suddenly appearing next to the bed in <em>Fatal Frame</em> <em>3</em>. At least he didn't do the Closet Ghost grab.</p><p> </p><p>"I can't. There is no closet in this room."</p><p> </p><p>I sit up and reach out. I hold Cole's face in my hands.</p><p> </p><p>Another game influence. I would never do this to someone back home.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks for waking me up."</p><p> </p><p>I kiss the forehead-part of the metal piece of his hat.</p><p> </p><p>Goddamn game.</p><p> </p><p>I don't <em>really</em> mind, as long as he doesn't.</p><p> </p><p>And as long as he doesn't get the wrong idea.</p><p> </p><p>I focus on 'friends.'</p><p> </p><p>Talking with a friend when you've had a heartbreak. <em>Listening</em> to a friend when they've had their heart broken. Midnight fast-food milkshakes. Laughing at inside jokes. Hugging and hellos and goodbyes.</p><p> </p><p>"Like Rhys and I. Yes. Friends. But he's never kissed my hat." He nods then looks to the side. "You'll be late."</p><p> </p><p>He poofs away.</p><p> </p><p>I report to the kitchens.</p><p> </p><p>Late.</p><p> </p><p>But not by much.</p><p> </p><p>I shadow the other baker. Follow his directions. It's not like I trained for Medieval baking. Without my modern equipment, it's a workout. Which makes me glad that I'm shadowing the baker. He gives me odd looks when I ask questions, I just try to say 'we do it differently where I'm from.'</p><p> </p><p>None of the other refugees...NPCs...know I'm not from Thedas.</p><p> </p><p>We bake loaf after loaf of bread.</p><p> </p><p>There are a lot of hungry people to feed.</p><p> </p><p>The baker grumbles. "Not bad. But I shoulda been the one to hire you."</p><p> </p><p>I use the paddle to take out the next set of bread. "When we get resupplied, I'll make more cookies." Because I know he's not <em>actually</em> mad that the cook hired me.</p><p> </p><p>I'm dismissed by early afternoon. We've baked enough for today.</p><p> </p><p>We have to ration out the supplies until we get more.</p><p> </p><p>'We.'</p><p> </p><p>It feels good.</p><p> </p><p>No one comes to get me, so I must not be needed for the War Room yet.</p><p> </p><p>But I don't want to just go sit in my room.</p><p> </p><p>And I've glanced at the fliers pinned around. The writing's different from English. So the library's out.</p><p> </p><p>I'm restless, even though hours of kneading was hard work. Usually I work until six or seven at night.</p><p> </p><p>Then again, I usually have more ingredients in stock to work with.</p><p> </p><p>I go towards the stables.</p><p> </p><p>I see him.</p><p> </p><p>My favorite.</p><p> </p><p>The BOG UNICORN!</p><p> </p><p>Hell.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fucking.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>YES!</p><p> </p><p>I practically skip up to the stall he's kept in.</p><p> </p><p>"Hello, Boggy!" I start making the 'Come Here, Horsey' sound and reach my hand out. I wait to see if he wants to be petted.</p><p> </p><p>His snout is just blackened bone. His withered, leathery skin is stretched over each and every bone, and his mane is limp and dull. The sword sticking up through his forehead is rusted.</p><p> </p><p><em>So badass. </em>I love him so much!</p><p> </p><p>His 'eyes' are just empty sockets with dried-out lids, but I can tell he's looking at me. He takes a few steps forward.</p><p> </p><p>Spooky whickering.</p><p> </p><p>He pokes his face towards my hand.</p><p> </p><p><em>Yes</em>!</p><p> </p><p>I lightly rub the center ridge of his skull. Avoiding the sword, of course.</p><p> </p><p>Spooky, happy whinny.</p><p> </p><p>I notice Dennet staring at me from the barn door.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>What do you think you're doing?!</em>" He mouths the words, trying to yell at me without actually yelling at me.</p><p> </p><p>Because he might spook Boggy.</p><p> </p><p>Ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>Boggy <em>is</em> spooky. Nothing can spook the already spooky.</p><p> </p><p>"Be right back, Boggy. Want your mane brushed?" Spooky neighing. "Think about it."</p><p> </p><p>Dennet's more confused than angry. "What are you <em>doing</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"I was saying hello to Boggy. The Bog Unicorn. Why?"</p><p> </p><p>"That thing's undead, or possessed. And you just <em>walk up to it</em> and <em>pet it.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p> </p><p>He shakes his head. He looks between Boggy and me. "No one else wants to ride it. If they ever take you out riding, you're more than welcome to claim it as <em>your</em> mount."</p><p> </p><p>I've been on a horse exactly one time. <em>Years</em> ago.</p><p> </p><p>"Can I practice? Ride him around a big pen or something?"</p><p> </p><p>Dennet looks hard at me. Then nods.</p><p> </p><p>I just got my second job as The Caretaker of Boggy.</p><p> </p><p>I rake out his stall and put in fresh hay. He didn't need it...he doesn't eat (which means I don't have to feed him), so he doesn't poop...but he <em>deserves</em> fresh hay.</p><p> </p><p>I pat him, look closely at his mane and tail. The hair's well preserved, but I don't know if I can brush it. I settle for some basic, unimpressive braids. Otherwise he doesn't need grooming.</p><p> </p><p>Easiest pet <em>ever</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Dennet shows me how to put a bridle and saddle on a regular horse. He doesn't like touching Boggy, which is now <em>my</em> job. He watches as I saddle Boggy, shaking his head when I bungle it.</p><p> </p><p>I'll get better with practice.</p><p> </p><p>Dennet keeps a few bits of some kind of 'sweet' hay as a treat for the mounts. I take a bit and try to give it to Boggy.</p><p> </p><p>He can't move his mouth very well. Because of the big fuck-off sword through his head. But he manages to get some of it.</p><p> </p><p>And it falls to the ground through the empty space of his jaw.</p><p> </p><p>But he seems to appreciate the gesture.</p><p> </p><p>My second job's going to be a breeze. Or should I count it as my third job?</p><p> </p><p>Because it's mid-afternoon now, and I haven't seen any of the other Advisors or Halea.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe there wasn't anything dire on the map yet...</p><p> </p><p>"What are you doing here?"</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall. I look to see if he's made progress on what's going to become a rocking horse. Just a slightly whittled log so far.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm taking care of the Bog Unicorn."</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall shivers. "Something's wrong with that thing. But the Inquisition can't afford to turn mounts out. Can't afford much of anything at the moment."</p><p> </p><p>Silence. But not uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>Then.</p><p> </p><p>"One thing the Inquisition <em>does</em> have is training weapons."</p><p> </p><p>He gestures over to some dull-looking swords that are in the barn for some reason. "Think you're up for testing your chops? You're most likely the Inquisition's first-ever recruit, after all."</p><p> </p><p>This is my chance!</p><p> </p><p>The game's giving me the chance to go through a fighting system tutorial! It <em>has</em> to be!</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck yeah!"</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Training.</p><p> </p><p><em>HURTS</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The swords are heavy. I try with a sword and shield, and a longsword. My arms are aching. And my back. And my fucking <em>everything</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall shakes his head and hands me a bow and quiver.</p><p> </p><p>I'm worse. I have no aim, and the bows are hard to use. I would've flayed off part of my arm if Blackwall hadn't given me an arm guard as well.</p><p> </p><p>Daggers?</p><p> </p><p>Better. They're a lot lighter.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall gets frustrated.</p><p> </p><p>"You can't fight off a darkspawn horde by just <em>running up to them</em> with two pointy <em>butterknives</em>. Maker help you, <em>you've got to sneak up on them</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I try to be sneaky. I'm bad at it.</p><p> </p><p>Not as bad as I was with the bow and arrow, though.</p><p> </p><p>He shakes his head. "The daggers are easier for you, but you attack head-on like you've got a sword and shield. What am I supposed to do with that?"</p><p> </p><p>"Can I train as a 'Rush In First' fighter, but with daggers?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>No</em>, absolutely not. You have to choose."</p><p> </p><p>God-fucking-dammit, game.</p><p> </p><p>"Daggers."</p><p> </p><p>I always pick Rogue first.</p><p> </p><p>Why should it be any different just because I'm <em>in</em> the game?</p><p> </p><p>The sun's almost gone. The courtyard is the hazy purple-blue of dusk.</p><p> </p><p>"We'll start training tomorrow morning."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm supposed to work in the kitchens every day, starting before dawn."</p><p> </p><p>"Then we'll train after."</p><p> </p><p>Four jobs.</p><p> </p><p>Rogue.</p><p> </p><p>The Caretaker of Boggy.</p><p> </p><p>Baker.</p><p> </p><p>Advisor. Maybe.</p><p> </p><p>I return to my room, tired enough that I know I'll fall asleep fast. Sore enough to know that tomorrow is going to fucking <em>suck</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And wonder about the first thing they'll call me to the War Room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Leveling Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gotta earn that XP.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One.</p><p> </p><p>Entire.</p><p> </p><p>Goddamn.</p><p> </p><p>Motherfucking.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>MONTH.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I'm forced to live in the game in real-time. The game's never just let an entire fucking <em>month</em> go by without anything missions or quests or whatever.</p><p> </p><p>I keep tabs on Halea and everyone. Solas does some half-hearted research on how the fuck I got here. But nothing progresses yet.</p><p> </p><p>There's too much to do to set up Skyhold.</p><p> </p><p>A month of making bread every morning.</p><p> </p><p>A month of trying to learn to ride. Only half of that was me falling off of Boggy because I didn't tie the fucking saddle right.</p><p> </p><p>A month of training every day to become an only-slightly-not-shitty rogue.</p><p> </p><p>I've learned how to be a little bit sneakier. But I'm never going to be an <em>actual</em> Rogue like I would be if I was <em>actually </em>part of the game.</p><p> </p><p>No poofy cloud of invisibility to Stealth into. No amazing acrobatics to do an Evade backflip.</p><p> </p><p>I fall on my ass every time I attempt Spinning Blades. Which used to make Blackwall laugh, but not anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Because I've been doing it.</p><p> </p><p>For a <em>fucking </em>month.</p><p> </p><p>My body's changed - slightly beefier because I'm stronger, slimming down because we don't have as much food to go around. </p><p> </p><p>My skin's changed - fewer almost-acne spots, somehow less oily. My hair, too. Maybe that's the self-regulating shit people are always talking about.</p><p> </p><p>But I don't know if the changes are from the complete lack of refined sugar and pollution...</p><p> </p><p>...Or if they're from the game.</p><p> </p><p>Because as far as I can tell, the game <em>is</em> treating me like an Advisor or Companion.</p><p> </p><p>I've got my own room, I'm training in a fighting style, I'm allowed to ride Boggy, I interact with the Advisors and Companions whenever I want.</p><p> </p><p>But there's still a certain <em>standard</em> that all of them fit. Only the very unimportant NPCs are allowed to be <em>actually</em> imperfect.</p><p> </p><p>And even then, most of them <em>aren't</em>.</p><p> </p><p>So am I changing because of the Medieval lifestyle I've been forced into?</p><p> </p><p>Or is it because the game is pushing my body and skin to 'fit' its style?</p><p> </p><p>I try to not think about it.</p><p> </p><p>Instead I try to change Skyhold things, see how the game reacts.</p><p> </p><p>I convince Josephine to put soap everywhere and make hand-washing a quirky Inquisition requirement. Cole helps, too. He's still half-spirit, half-corporeal, so he can influence others to wash their goddamn hands.</p><p> </p><p>Success.</p><p> </p><p>I try to convince Cullen that the Inquisition needs some Mabari. I can almost see the fight happening in his mind between what the game's already decided (no), and what he wants (yes).</p><p> </p><p>Failure.</p><p> </p><p>Cole sneaks a cat to my room. Gray with yellow eyes. I name her Pepper. I call her Pepper, Pepps, Pip, Pippy, Peppy-pips, Pippy-peps, Pepperoni, and Chunker.</p><p> </p><p>She helps.</p><p> </p><p>Because it's also been an entire goddamn motherfucking month of fighting off loneliness at night. And panic. Sadness. Fear.</p><p> </p><p>I miss my family, and my friends, my <em>world</em>, so fucking much.</p><p> </p><p>My phone stays at the same: time, date, battery percentage, 'No Service.' It stays in my leather pouch, with my real clothes.</p><p> </p><p>But when I take it out at night, I go through my pictures and videos that are downloaded on my phone.</p><p> </p><p>I see everyone I miss. I can hear their voices.</p><p> </p><p>Looking at them hurts<em>.</em> </p><p> </p><p>It hurts to not look at them.</p><p> </p><p>Pepper flops into my lap and purrs loudly when I cry, butting her head against my arm. Her large, round, purring presence helps. And her fur is great at absorbing tears.</p><p> </p><p>I have one playlist of songs downloaded on my phone, too. I play them quietly when everyone else is asleep.</p><p> </p><p>On sad nights I play "Undone in Sorrow" by Crooked Still.</p><p> </p><p>On angry nights I play Jooselord's "Silence."</p><p> </p><p>And "Contact" by Lulleaux &amp; Giang Pham is for the randomly horny nights.</p><p> </p><p>Wouldn't have thought that I'd get horny during a crisis like being <em>transported into a fucking game suddenly and without reason and with no way to get back and no understanding of how and with the pressure of making sure that you save EVERYBODY but also not FUCK THINGS UP and get home ALIVE.</em></p><p> </p><p>And yet.</p><p> </p><p>A few nights. There I am. 'Pining' and 'aching' and whatever other flowery shit authors use to describe horniness.</p><p> </p><p>(I know there's more 'nuance' than that. But it makes me feel better to be bitter at authors. The bitterness does not make those nights feel any less horny.)</p><p> </p><p>The tavern opens up, and I go and eat and drink with whatever Advisors/Companions I find.</p><p> </p><p>Some of those meals are with the Chargers. Bull likes me enough to invite me to sit with them. I tell the elf mage that I like her 'bow.' And the 'aiming crystal' on it. She's impressed.</p><p> </p><p>I'm officially considered good company. <em>Fuck yeah</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The Chargers don't ask me too many questions. Instead I get to sit back and listen to their stories.</p><p> </p><p>I see Krem drink from the wine bottle in his hand. In this new 'real life' I live in, the game glitch makes him constantly miss his own mouth and hit himself in the face with the bottle instead.</p><p> </p><p>One of the nights that I'm with the Chargers, I reach out and tilt the wine bottle so it gets to his lips instead of going up his nose.</p><p> </p><p>Another fucking game influence. Goddammit.</p><p> </p><p>He looks at me. Smiles.</p><p> </p><p>Oh <em>fuck</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>Fuck</em>, I forgot.</p><p> </p><p>I forgot he was hot.</p><p> </p><p>He slides closer to me. Our legs touch.</p><p> </p><p>Where did that music come from? He leans towards me.</p><p> </p><p>"Fancy some air?"</p><p> </p><p>"The barmaid's been eyeing you." I say it too quickly.</p><p> </p><p>Krem looks towards the random woman I point to. The woman suddenly stands up, goes to the dwarf bartender, and starts taking a tray of tankards around the tavern.</p><p> </p><p>Turns her head towards Krem. Winks. Krem raises his wine bottle in return.</p><p> </p><p>The game has provided.</p><p> </p><p>I'm relieved. I'm disappointed.</p><p> </p><p>That night was a "Contact" night.</p><p> </p><p>I point away because I don't know what would happen if I kissed one of the characters.</p><p> </p><p>Let alone boned one.</p><p> </p><p>If I thought I wouldn't break the game, I wouldn't have pointed out the barmaid.</p><p> </p><p>I wouldn't have gone to bed alone again. Maybe. I passed up my chance to see what a Krem romance would look like.</p><p> </p><p>But still, I point away because I'm trying not to break the game. (Or <em>Krem.</em> What if it was just <em>him</em> that broke?!)</p><p> </p><p>And...</p><p> </p><p><em>And</em>...</p><p> </p><p>And I'm also waiting to see if I see him.</p><p> </p><p>See if he comes to Skyhold.</p><p> </p><p>I hope he doesn't.</p><p> </p><p>I hope he does.</p><p> </p><p>What I hope changes hourly.</p><p> </p><p>That's my routine.</p><p> </p><p>The baking, the training, the careful manipulation of the game world around me.</p><p> </p><p>The despair.</p><p> </p><p>For an entire GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING MONTH.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Halea surprises me. I've just walked out of the kitchens, leftover flour on my hands.</p><p> </p><p>"Ready to be an Advisor?"</p><p> </p><p>"It's about fucking time. Why's it taken so long?"</p><p> </p><p>She shrugs. "We had a lot to do to get Skyhold set up. Trade to establish. Supplies to gather. <em>Politics</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Not surprising, still super fucking annoying.</p><p> </p><p>But finally.</p><p> </p><p>After one entire goddamn motherfucking <em>month</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I get inside the War Room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Undone in Sorrow" by Crooked Still <a> https://youtu.be/5DHTyudYyc0 </a><br/>"Silence" by Jooselord [Explicit] <a> https://youtu.be/cUrEh1FEsK8 </a><br/>"Contact" by Lulleaux feat. Giang Pham <a> https://youtu.be/XJ5BMSUuNDI</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Turning Point</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Where's the button to skip this cutscene??</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The turning point is </p><p> </p><p>BIG</p><p> </p><p>and</p><p> </p><p>EPIC</p><p> </p><p>and</p><p> </p><p>O B V I O U S!</p><p> </p><p>There are always and only TWO choices.</p><p> </p><p>And there's a RIGHT choice</p><p> </p><p>and a WRONG choice</p><p> </p><p>And which choice is which is OBVIOUS.</p><p> </p><p>The turning point</p><p> </p><p>is</p><p> </p><p>always</p><p> </p><p>OBVIOUS.</p><p> </p><p>Right?</p><p> </p><p>So what was the turning point that got me <em>here</em>? </p><p> </p><p>The unknowing choices</p><p> </p><p>and accidental training</p><p> </p><p>that kick in at just the right time.</p><p> </p><p>Like right now.</p><p> </p><p>Right.</p><p> </p><p>Now.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Nothing's happening.</p><p> </p><p>There's no epic swell in music, there's no dramatic posing or monologuing, no perfectly timed breeze to make the leaves rustle in the sunshine or the torches flicker in their holders and create a joyous or solemn atmosphere.</p><p> </p><p>There's six of us in this room.</p><p> </p><p>Six of us, plus dust, plus sunshine, plus a map with little toys to mark different spots.</p><p> </p><p>Six of us, plus candles, plus quills, plus parchment, plus cups and plates.</p><p> </p><p>Seven of us - because Cole's here, even if no one else has noticed him just yet - plus several conflicting emotions: expectation, hope, dread, doubt.</p><p> </p><p>Seven of us, and five of them are looking at me. </p><p> </p><p>(Cole's sitting on the map table next to where I'm standing, reading messages the sun is writing in the dust motes)</p><p> </p><p>The map is big, but the places are too small. There aren't any detailed maps of each area yet. Maybe none will show up in the War Room.</p><p> </p><p>"Well?"</p><p> </p><p>Cullen's the one who says it.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone, including myself, is thinking it. Probably including Cole, because the chorus of "Well?" echoing in all of our minds must sound like we're all screaming in his ears.</p><p> </p><p>I search my brain for something I can tell them that isn't</p><p> </p><p>obvious.</p><p> </p><p>And it's</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>obvious</em>
</p><p> </p><p>that I'm panicking.</p><p> </p><p>What was the 'training' that I received for this? Playing the game how many times through? Reading the guide how many times? Talking with my friends about different choices and theories?</p><p> </p><p>What was the turning point that put me inside this game in the first place?</p><p> </p><p>Because falling asleep on a couch isn't very obvious or epic. Not from a storytelling standpoint.</p><p> </p><p>I'm stalling myself.</p><p> </p><p>Someone clears their throat.</p><p> </p><p>(Cassandra?)</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What happens if I choose the wrong choice?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>How will I know what choice is the wrong choice</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>when</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>there's</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>SO</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>MANY</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>OF</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>THEM?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I hear my teeth creak from the force of my jaw smashing them together.</p><p> </p><p>It's literally quiet enough that I can hear that.</p><p> </p><p>Gross.</p><p> </p><p><em>FUCK</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I need <em>something</em> that will convince them!</p><p> </p><p>I know something that will convince them!</p><p> </p><p>Don't I?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>DON'T I?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Flowers," Cole says.</p><p> </p><p>"Who-?!" Cullen panics, turning and realizing that Cole is a person who exists and is currently in the room and is sitting on his map table.</p><p> </p><p>"You promised flowers," Cole says, ignoring Cullen. Ignoring all of us, really. Except the dust motes.</p><p> </p><p>"Flowers?" I squint at the map. Try to squeeze thoughts out of my brain through my eyeballs because yeah, of course <em>that</em> shit makes sense.</p><p> </p><p>"What is he-?" Leliana doesn't seem too concerned about Cole as a presence in the room, but is interested in whatever he's saying.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>For my hat!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>He's a little distressed, and does he sound kind of hurt?</p><p> </p><p>That I forgot about promising him flowers for his ha-</p><p> </p><p>"THE FLOWER CROWN!" I grab Cole's face with my hands and kiss the metal part of his hat and it looks stupid but I don't care. "Thank fucking <em>Christ</em> for you, Cole!"</p><p> </p><p>I get whiplash from turning to the map, then to Cole, and back again. "Did you just make a turning point choice <em>for</em> me, you clever sonuvabitch?"</p><p> </p><p>"What kind of a choice?" Josephine's face shows that she's finally starting to question my grasp on (their) reality.</p><p> </p><p>"Doesn't matter. Let's talk Flower Crown."</p><p> </p><p>"A flower crown...like ones that children make?" Cassandra's disgust almost makes me smile, but I catch myself. Need to <em>focus</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes and no. What if I told you there was a set of completely insane steps we need to do in order to find a Flower Crown that acts like a <em>helmet</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"A helmet with flowers carved into it?" Halea is unimpressed.</p><p> </p><p>"No. It's - wait, you know what, it's going to sound completely fucking insane until we find it and you see it for yourself."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, where is it?" Cullen gestures to the map.</p><p> </p><p>"It's in Emprise du Leon, but we have to go to the Emerald Graves first."</p><p> </p><p>"The Emerald...why would we need to go <em>days</em> out of our way to the <em>wrong</em> location? Why not go straight to Emprise du Leon <em>first</em>?! It doesn't make sense!" Cullen's right. It doesn't make sense in 'real-world' logic.</p><p> </p><p>Only video game logic makes going to the Emerald Graves to trigger the quest to get the location in Emprise du Leon to get the Flower Crown (or whatever the fuck its name is) 'make sense.'</p><p> </p><p>"See? I've told you that we can't trust her. Now, she makes claims that are pure fantasy, invented to keep her in the Inquisition." Leliana's voice is full of contempt.</p><p> </p><p>Now <em>this</em> is going to be fun.</p><p> </p><p>I turn to her. "Is that the attitude that the Hero of Ferelden took with you when he met you in that pub in Lothering?"</p><p> </p><p>She glares at me.</p><p> </p><p>"After you helped him fight off those thugs that were looking to murder him because of Loghain's Anti-Grey-Warden propaganda?"</p><p> </p><p>She glares harder.</p><p> </p><p>"Because honestly he could have. It was an option. Now <em>me</em>, I always chose to believe you."</p><p> </p><p>She glares a little softer. "You did?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. My world's history is chock-<em>full</em> of people who believe a divine being tells them to do something. Some of those turned out well. A <em>lot </em>of them did not."</p><p> </p><p>"And you chose to believe me? Why?"</p><p> </p><p>I shrug again. "Because I knew you were meant to be on the team."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Well hot-damn, me! If that wasn't such an obviously crafted moment forced on me by the game I'd almost call that cool.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Leliana doesn't look <em>impressed</em>, but looks...mildly more open to believing me. She glares just a tiny bit softer again.</p><p> </p><p>And then she says, "That's all very lovely, but that does not give me the confidence to believe in a crown made of flowers that can act as a helmet, nor to believe that you must go to the Emerald Graves when you know that this supposed crown is located in Emprise du Leon."</p><p> </p><p>Well <em>shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"I cannot say I have confidence in this information either," Cassandra says.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay. Well, does <em>anyone</em> believe me?" Is my voice loud? It sounds like my voice is loud.</p><p> </p><p>Cole slowly raises his hand. Cullen starts, having forgotten that he was there again.</p><p> </p><p>So far, not good.</p><p> </p><p>Then Halea raises her hand.</p><p> </p><p>Yes! My Inquisitor <em>for the fucking win</em>!</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know that I believe you completely -"</p><p> </p><p>What the fuck, Halea?!</p><p> </p><p>"-but I'm willing to give you a chance."</p><p> </p><p>I'm smiling like I just won a spelling bee. I've never even <em>been </em>in a spelling bee! Is this what it feels like to win one? Should I have been in more spelling bees? "I'll take it!" </p><p> </p><p>"Are you sure?" Halea raises an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>"Well <em>now</em> I'm not."</p><p> </p><p>She smiles. "Smart. If you want to prove yourself to us, to <em>all</em> of us -" she glances around the table, and the others nod "-then you're going to need to take all your training out into the field."</p><p> </p><p>I can feel my face turn the color of long-cold ashes. </p><p> </p><p>Shit fucking shit<em> goddammit SHIT</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Halea has the nerve, the <em>fucking nerve</em>, to smile even more. </p><p> </p><p>"Pack your bags, Salome. You're coming to explore the Emerald Graves with us."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Change Member</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sometimes you've got to play another character. For a WHILE.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Blackwall~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blackwall watched as the girl climbed up the tall, angular rockfaces that made up the ravine. She walked over to a well-placed wooden plank, standing in front of it and looking from it to the ravine floor below and back. He could see her knees shaking. He heard Cassandra snort when the girl got down on her hands and knees and crawled across the plank.</p><p> </p><p>He saw her arms and legs shaking, and the fear in her eyes. She made it safely across, not bothering to hide her sigh of relief.</p><p> </p><p>On their way to the Emerald Graves, she realized that they would need ten Crystal Grace flowers. She insisted that they acquire them before going to the Emerald Graves. None of them could remember where Crystal Grace grew, or if anyone sold it. The girl said she only remembered one place where they grew, although she said there could be other places. But they only had the one location to go on. Which forced them to turn back and move instead towards the Hinterlands.</p><p> </p><p>She had remarkable luck locating the flowers. They'd taken an odd, winding path across the southern Hinterlands, skirting by a plaza with a statue and a very particular log. And now they were in the ravine near the river, across from the farms.</p><p> </p><p>"I've got them! That's ten!"</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra shook her head. "I still don't understand why we need ten Crystal Grace flowers. Will she weave this mystery flower crown from them?"</p><p> </p><p>The girl appeared again, once more getting on her hands and knees to cross the plank.</p><p> </p><p>"If she was going to make the flower crown, I doubt she'd insist we go to <em>three</em> locations." Halea sounded tired. They'd had to run from - or fight - wolves, bears, wild Mabari, bandits, and a few Venatori as they searched the Hinterlands. In <em>one</em> day.</p><p> </p><p>She - <em>Salome</em>, Blackwall reminded himself - had held her own passably well. They had told her to stay out of the middle of battle, which she had, and she had been able to get some hits in on the animals and bandits. She didn't take anyone down, but she had been capable of wounding them. The Venatori had been a problem for her, screaming as fire, ice, or lightning sprung from the mages' hands. For those battles, she had hidden.</p><p> </p><p>He had focused on fighting near her, drawing the enemies towards him with shouts, using his shield to throw off attacking enemies and stun them. He was her teacher, after all. He was dedicated to protecting her until her training was done, as he would have done for any Grey Warden recruit.</p><p> </p><p>Salome descended safely, placing the flowers in the saddle bags of her mount. The Bog Unicorn. The thing made him shudder, but for some reason she wasn't bothered by it. Just like she wasn't bothered by his past.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, we're all set. We can go to the Emerald Graves now." Salome had little of her usual enthusiasm in her voice. The travel and fighting had worn her down. She had told him that she had never fought before, especially not to kill. Blackwall had watched recruits go through the same change. Even the ones who were used to fighting for their survival eventually wore down by the sheer frequency.</p><p> </p><p>What happened after they reached that point determined whether they were Grey Warden material or not. Salome would never be Grey Warden material, but thanks to his training she was better equipped to survive than some people he had met.</p><p> </p><p>They mounted up. Salome on the Bog Unicorn (she called the thing 'Boggy'), he and Cassandra on solid Ferelden steeds, and Halea and Solas on their harts. It would be another few days before they reached the Graves. He sighed as he remembered that they would have yet another stop after that, in freezing Emprise du Leon.</p><p> </p><p>A slight wave of fear washed over him as he thought of Orlais. His time in the imperial army. The slaughter that he had allowed, then fled from. The girl had agreed to keep his secret, and, not for the first time, he wondered <em>why</em>. Perhaps it was because she wasn't from Thedas (so she claimed). She didn't have the same connection to the people that others had.</p><p> </p><p>Even knowing that he was a traitor and a coward, she never looked at him in hatred, as he expected. And again he wondered <em>why</em>. They hadn't mentioned it since their meeting in the tent. Maybe that was why he felt the need to train her, to watch over her. She knew his darkest secret, and she didn't seem to care.</p><p> </p><p><em>"I'm still going to call you Blackwall. To me, it's your name. Even if you've got another one."</em> He was grateful she was letting him decide when he would reveal himself to the others. He was grateful to know that he <em>would</em> in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Blackwall</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>He shook out of his thoughts. Salome had fallen back so that the Bog Unicorn was walking shoulder-to-shoulder with his steed. They didn't seem to mind each other's company.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, sorry, I was lost in thought."</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, no problem, I daydream all time. Not like there's a lot to do while riding. But I wanted to talk about how I've been doing? Fighting-wise?"</p><p> </p><p>"Right, today was your first day fighting enemies who weren't stuffed with straw."</p><p> </p><p>"Or sparring someone I wasn't <em>really</em> supposed to stab. So how'd I do?"</p><p> </p><p>"If you were fighting Darkspawn, you would have died."</p><p> </p><p>She groaned. "Okay, yeah, <em>duh</em>, but <em>how did I do</em>? You know, <em>for me</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"You didn't die."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Blackwall</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"For your first day fighting in the field, you did well for the level of training you currently have. We should train more when we set up camp for the night. I'm sure we'll have more opportunities to fight enemies, hone your skills in the field. But you still need to perfect the basics."</p><p> </p><p>"Seriously? But I'm so tired, and my <em>everything</em> is so sore...<em>ugh</em>, okay, okay, it's a plan. But not dying's not bad, right?" She grinned, a little mischief in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>He wondered if any of those children would have grown to be like Salome. If he hadn't ordered them to be slaughtered.</p><p> </p><p>He felt her punch his arm, well padded by his quilted tunic. "Get out of your head, man."</p><p> </p><p>Oddly perceptive girl.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Days later, they were in the Emerald Graves. The Inquisition scouting party had begun setting up field camps in a few places in the Graves, but the part of the map Salome pointed to was still unexplored. They would travel to the nearest field camp, and explore until they found...</p><p> </p><p>"What, <em>exactly</em>, are we looking for out in the Emerald Graves?" Solas stared at Salome. Their interactions had been strained since she arrived.</p><p> </p><p>"You're going to think it's stupid. <em>All</em> of you are. Like I've said a million times already, getting the Flower Crown means having to go through a bunch of really weird steps but it'll <em>prove</em> I know what I'm talking about!"</p><p> </p><p>"That's all well and good, but <em>what are we looking for</em>?" Solas' grip on his staff tightened, and his eyebrows lowered in annoyance.</p><p> </p><p>"It's a tiny house made of rocks. Hidden behind some bushes." She rubbed the side of her face, her nervous habit, he had realized.</p><p> </p><p>"And what are we going to do when we find this <em>tiny house</em>?" Cassandra was almost as annoyed as Solas.</p><p> </p><p>"I...We'll..I'll tell you when we get there." She rubbed another spot on her face.</p><p> </p><p>"That does not inspire confidence in this mission," Cassandra said as she shook her head.</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>know</em>, okay?!" Salome snapped back. The others - Blackwall included - stared at her. "What?! I'm <em>tired</em>, I'm <em>hungry</em>, I'm sore <em>all over</em>, and you guys keep bugging me for more <em>fucking</em> details that I can't give you right now because they don't make any <em>fucking</em> sense, <em>alright</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>Halea crossed her arms. "Salome, you can't blame us for being skeptical."</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>don't</em>, I get it, I seriously do, I just need you guys to go along with me a little longer! We'll find the Flower Crown, and you'll know that I'm telling the truth, and then I can save-"</p><p> </p><p>She stopped herself. It was the most he had ever heard her reveal about her goals. Halea didn't seem as surprised as the rest of them were.</p><p> </p><p>But Blackwall was curious. "Save who?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'll tell you guys later. <em>After</em> you believe me. Now can we <em>go</em> or what? <em>Jesus</em>." Salome stomped up the slope, which had stones that looked intentionally set into it.</p><p> </p><p>"Perhaps we should let her go alone," Cassandra grumbled. "We can see if she's as confident in herself after facing a Giant Bear."</p><p> </p><p>Halea smirked. "It's an idea, but we can't." She started walking towards the slope as well. "There are actual Giants out there as well."</p><p> </p><p>One Giant Bear later, they were crowded behind a huge, lush hedge, staring at three rocks with flowers around them.</p><p> </p><p>"It...<em>kind of</em> looks like a house..." Halea offered. "So what now?"</p><p> </p><p>"Now we jump on it one hundred times."</p><p> </p><p>"We...jump on it...one hundred times..." Solas was nearly dumbfounded, but never one to be lost for words.</p><p> </p><p>"Yep. Do one of you want to, or...?" They stared at her in disbelief. "I guess it's up to me, then."</p><p> </p><p>She stepped carefully on the rock that balanced on top of two others, the 'roof' of the 'house,' and began jumping.</p><p> </p><p>She counted as she jumped.</p><p> </p><p>She neared 30 when they heard it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">"Not time to come out. No. Not yet."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>"What in the Maker's name was that?" Cassandra lowered her arms in surprise, staring suspiciously at the little house.</p><p> </p><p>Salome got to 45.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">"He'll remake the world to suit his desires. His chosen to reign."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>"Is it talking about Corypheus?" Halea stepped closer to the stones. Solas shifted on his feet.</p><p> </p><p>Salome reached 61. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">"Pulling back the curtain. Let the light in. Let it burn."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Salome twisted slightly as she continued jumping, eyeing Solas. He shifted again.</p><p> </p><p>She got to 100.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"Deviating from the plan. No accounting for whimsy. Small differences lead to fatal consequences. I'm sorry.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>She stepped off the stone house and stared at it.</p><p> </p><p>"Do we use these now?" Blackwall held up the saddlebag with the Crystal Grace in it.</p><p> </p><p>Salome shook her head. "No, it didn't say the right thing." She looked confused, and deeply concerned. "Let me try."</p><p> </p><p>She turned and walked out of the hedge, then came back and began jumping on the house again. She reached 10.</p><p> </p><p>The ground rumbled beneath them. <span class="u">"Need more! More. Have to be ready."</span></p><p> </p><p>"Yes!" Salome landed her last jump on the ground. "Now we use the flowers."</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall handed her the saddlebag and she placed the flowers outside of the entrance to the house.</p><p> </p><p>They disappeared.</p><p> </p><p>"What on earth?" Cassandra stepped back. The others were surprised as well.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">"The stairs! The stairs that go down. Way, way down. I'll be there. You'll be there."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Salome clapped her hands. "That's it! On to Emprise du Leon!"</p><p> </p><p>She turned and began walking out of the hedge, but Halea grabbed her arm. "Wait a minute. Explain what just happened."</p><p> </p><p>Salome shrugged. "I don't know. I have no idea who lives in that little house, I don't know why they say the things they do, and I have no fucking clue why they have a Flower Crown hidden in Emprise du Leon. I just know that they do. Do you want a sweet Flower Crown or not?"</p><p> </p><p>Halea stared at her, her eyebrows lowered. "If I find out that you're lying..."</p><p> </p><p>Salome leaned back with mock concern. "Oh no! You'll kill me? Imprison me? Torture me? Come on, Halea. I think that you already <em>know</em> I'm not lying."</p><p> </p><p>Halea released her arm. "Fine. But I don't like this 'quest' you're taking us on. It's...it's <em>weird</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Salome nodded. "No shit, Sherlock."</p><p> </p><p>"Who?"</p><p> </p><p>Salome groaned.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Emprise du Leon was, of course, freezing. They had been able to pick up winter gear from some Inquisition scouts as they made their way there, thankfully in just a few short days.</p><p> </p><p>They spent almost a week searching for the right spot. The Inquisition scouts hadn't ventured very far into Emprise du Leon, which meant that it was up to their party to explore, map, and fight their way through the territory.</p><p> </p><p>Salome had been improving more and more as she fought in the field. One day, she had suffered a bad slash along her arm from a gigantic, monstrous Red Templar that had rushed out of a cave to attack them. It sliced her with the long, sharp crystal that had formed around its arm. Solas had healed her after they had defeated the Red Templar, but she was shaken.</p><p> </p><p>That night, Blackwall had stayed closer to her. Seeing her so upset worried him, and he was ashamed that he hadn't been able to stop the monster's attack. He saw the look in her eyes, the same look Grey Warden recruits had when they'd fought their first Darkspawn.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you okay, lass?" </p><p> </p><p>She had looked at him in confusion. "I didn't think you called people 'lass.'" She shook her head. "But no, I'm not fucking 'okay,' Blackwall. I got hurt today. Like, <em>hurt</em>. The kind of hurt that could probably have <em>killed</em> me. And I...I felt that lyrium. If Solas hadn't healed me, I think it would have taken over. That never happened to any of <em>you</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Sounds terrifying, that."</p><p> </p><p>"Dying's scary enough in the <em>real world</em>...I mean, in <em>my</em> world, my world is 'real' to me, not saying that this isn't 'real' but...<em>shit</em>." She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, curling into herself. "I'm so fucking <em>scared</em>. I was already scared of dying, and now I have to be worried about dying <em>and</em> getting possessed by a fucking crystal! How the fuck do I even <em>handle</em> that kind of shit?!"</p><p> </p><p>"You stop whining." She looked up at him. Surprise and a little contempt. "You looked death in the face today. It almost got you, but you survived. There's no point in agonizing over what <em>almost</em> happened."</p><p> </p><p>She stared at the campfire, but Blackwall kept going. "You said that you could die just as well in your world. And, if we're to believe you, you know full well what dangers there were <em>here</em>. Congratulations, you've finally faced one of the worst ones. And you survived."</p><p> </p><p>"That's...Jesus <em>fuck</em>, Blackwall, that's not what you say to someone who's freaking the fuck out!" She was starting to get angry. That was good.</p><p> </p><p>"Really? It isn't?" He asked in monotone. "You're acting exactly like a recruit who's faced his first Shriek. It's fucking terrifying, and <em>you lived</em>. And it's not the last time you'll face one of those things, or some other danger, but it's not the last time you'll live either."</p><p> </p><p>He softened his tone a bit. "I understand that you'd rather have a warm blanket and kind words right now, but the fact of the matter is that nothing warm and fuzzy is going to make you less scared. The more you play it over in your head while you're scared, the worse you make it for yourself."</p><p> </p><p>"Isn't there some sort of, like, <em>counseling</em> Grey Wardens do? Something that's not just 'get the fuck over it,' because it's pretty fucking hard to 'just get the fuck over it' when you have <em>no fucking clue how</em>." Her anger had sharpened. Even better.</p><p> </p><p>"No. There's no 'method,' not here, at least. No instructions, no hand-holding. The only thing most people have is time, and while we're here in Emprise du Leon, you don't even have that. We've got to stay on the lookout for more enemies, including more of those abominations. That means there's no time for sitting around, thinking and whining."</p><p> </p><p>"So I'm just supposed to, what, <em>stop</em> being scared? Just like <em>that</em>?" She snapped her fingers.</p><p> </p><p>"The second you stop being scared is the second you die." Blackwall shook his head. "You've got to pull yourself out of your panic on your own, and fast. I can't do that for you. If we had <em>time</em>, I wouldn't bother you about it. You could go find someone else to talk though it. But out here in Emprise du Leon with those red crystal bastards lurking everywhere, you've got to get over it <em>now</em>. Panic all you want when we're back at Skyhold, but if you do it now, you're putting all of us - and yourself - in danger."</p><p> </p><p>Salome sniffed and scrubbed at her face, although she didn't have any tears to wipe away. "Fine. Whatever. Just 'push it deep down and don't talk about it.' Just 'get over it.' Great. Wonderful."</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall felt like, in this moment, he was failing as her teacher. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You don't need to get over it or stop talking about it. You need to prioritize surviving. And right now, sitting around replaying it in your mind and panicking is <em>not</em> prioritizing your survival."</p><p> </p><p>She sniffed again but nodded. "Yeah, I get it. It's still shitty."</p><p> </p><p>He stared at the campfire with her. "Yes. It is shitty. But survival is shitty, there's almost always someone who loses. <span class="u">It's them or you. And if it's you, be damn sure to take the bastards with you.</span> Remember that, Salome."</p><p> </p><p>She nodded, but he could tell that she wasn't convinced. He hoped she would believe him. It was a hard lesson to live through without knowing that the secret was...there was no secret.</p><p> </p><p>"We'll find it tomorrow," she said, standing up. "I can feel it." She walked over to where she had placed her bedroll.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall believed her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Achievement Unlocked</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Quest Complete! Achievement Level: Bronze.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I miss when sleeping was just a video game mechanic.</p><p> </p><p>When I could get to a tent and fade-to-black-and-back, then be fully rested in two seconds.</p><p> </p><p>On this whole fucking trek to get the Flower Crown, I haven't slept a single goddamn wink. At all. Not even for five fucking minutes.</p><p> </p><p>It's like when the sun goes down, my brain speeds up. Thinking about everything, panicking at every sound. I've been on edge since we left Skyhold.</p><p> </p><p>High-danger jobs are definitely <em>not</em> for me.</p><p> </p><p>Tonight my brain is all about two things: the gigantic fuck-off crystal demon Templar thing, and Blackwall's shitty campfire speech.</p><p> </p><p>Crystals sticking painfully out of every inch of his skin. Jaw unattached, gaping wide. Eyes glowing bright red and empty. The pain. Feeling the poison as it slowly spread through my arm...</p><p> </p><p>I focus on Blackwall's shitty campfire speech.</p><p> </p><p>How dare he. How <em>fucking</em> dare he! What the <em>fuck</em>?!</p><p> </p><p>Who just says 'get over it,' <em>really</em>?</p><p> </p><p><em>'You don't need to get over it or stop talking about it. You need to prioritize surviving. And right now, sitting around replaying it in your mind and panicking is not prioritizing your survival.'</em> Fucking <em>RUDE</em>.</p><p> </p><p>(It's easier to be mad that the people in <em>Dragon Age</em> don't have modern counseling and psychology than it is to think about how I almost died today)</p><p> </p><p><em>'You need to prioritize surviving.'</em> Fuck. <em>FUCK</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He isn't wrong. And I <em>know</em> he isn't. But I can't figure out how to just...<em>stop</em> being scared.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'The second you stop being scared is the second you die.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>Stop</em> thinking about how it sliced into me, it hit the bones <em>I felt it hit my bones I fucking FELT IT SCRAPE ACROSS MY BONE-</em></p><p> </p><p>And the lyrium...</p><p> </p><p>Red's always associated with heat. This shit felt like freezing.</p><p> </p><p>Like ice cold water was spreading out through the veins in my arms.</p><p> </p><p>Only Solas knew how bad it had been. I felt the ice-cold lyrium reach parts of my face, reach my toes, the back of my neck. I could feel it creep into my fucking <em>eyeballs</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Thank fuck for healing magic, I guess.</p><p> </p><p>Solas hadn't looked <em>scared</em>. That bastard never <em>looks</em> scared. But he looked 'very concerned.' Which is damn close to 'scared' for him.</p><p> </p><p>And yeah, I know that 'bastard' saved my life. But cursing, even in my head for an audience of one, feels good.</p><p> </p><p>I want to get the fuck out of Emprise du Leon. I hate this place. I always get lost here.</p><p> </p><p>Not that I'm lost right now. I finally saw it today, the view that says "hey dumbass, you're finally close to the Flower Crown!" The path is right next to camp.</p><p> </p><p>We'll take that path tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>Then we'll get the Flower Crown.</p><p> </p><p>And everyone will believe me <em>for real</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And I can start convincing them of my plan to save him.</p><p> </p><p>Them.</p><p> </p><p>Save <em>them</em>. Save them both.</p><p> </p><p>(Save <em>him</em>)</p><p> </p><p>The image of the monster Red Templar abomination fucker invades my brain again.</p><p> </p><p>I need to think about something else.</p><p> </p><p>I wish I had my cell phone and headphones so I could drown my brain out with music or podcasts or even a fucking audiobook. <em>Something</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe I can distract myself by thinking about him.</p><p> </p><p>Worth a shot.</p><p> </p><p>A little awkward in a cluster of sleeping bags instead of in my own room, though. I'll just have to let my mind do all the work.</p><p> </p><p>I think about his lips on mine.</p><p> </p><p>What his tongue would taste like.</p><p> </p><p>(Surprise it tastes like spit because <em>everyone's mouth tastes like spit</em>. Authors are so full of absolute bullshit with that 'she tasted like champagne and strawberries' fuckery. Everyone tastes like spit. If you're lucky. Unbrushed teeth and morning breath can make for some nasty spit-)</p><p> </p><p>I interrupt my own fantasizing with a rant about <em>spit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Sounds about right.</p><p> </p><p>Fucking shit.</p><p> </p><p>I have an idea.</p><p> </p><p>"Solas," I whisper.</p><p> </p><p>He shifts - thank Christ, because there was no guarantee that he was going to be awake since he <em>love</em><em>s</em> the Fade so <em>fucking</em> much.</p><p> </p><p>"Solas, can you cast a sleep spell on me?"</p><p> </p><p>He raises himself on an elbow. "A sleep spell?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. I can't sleep. All I see is that monster slicing me open. So, you know, just an instant dip into REM would be wonderful."</p><p> </p><p>He sighs. "I assume 'REM' has something to do with sleep in your world."</p><p> </p><p>"Yep. So will you zap me to sleep or what?"</p><p> </p><p>"Fine." He begins to wave his hands and whisper.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks. I know you don't like me."</p><p> </p><p>Wait, why did I say <em>that</em>?</p><p> </p><p>He stops.</p><p> </p><p>Goddamn <em>game</em>. All I want is to go the <em>fuck</em> to sleep but <em>now</em> I have to have a <em>dialogue</em>. Dammit.</p><p> </p><p>"I do not like or dislike you. I do not <em>trust</em> you. But I would be a fool to deny one of my travel companions a full night's rest, especially when our current task relies on your full attention, as does everyone's safety."</p><p> </p><p>He's got a point. And I'm so tired that he could be telling me that his body is really just a bunch of tiny bugs in a skin-suit and I'd believe him.</p><p> </p><p>"Still. Thanks."</p><p> </p><p>He nods and begins the spell again. I fall asleep.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>We all wake up early the next morning, before dawn. It's cold enough that there's no use staying asleep for too long when we're camping <em>outside</em> in the <em>fucking</em> snow.</p><p> </p><p>We're packing up when Solas says, "How did you sleep?"</p><p> </p><p>"I finally <em>slept</em>, probably for the first time since I <em>got</em> here. Seriously. Thank you."</p><p> </p><p>He nods. "Good." I can see just a teeny, tiny hint of a satisfied smirk on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Then he says, "I couldn't find you in The Fade. I theorize it is because I wasn't looking in the correct places, or perhaps because you were not fully sleeping."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh. I figured I might have the same rules as dwarves, no connection to The Fade. So I wouldn't even be there when I'm asleep."</p><p> </p><p>"Interesting." He goes quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Probably pondering.</p><p> </p><p>"Camp's packed up, let's get going!" Halea calls. "Salome, lead the way!"</p><p> </p><p>I walk down the path carefully. I've almost slipped at least a million times every day we've been in Emprise du Leon. I'm already under enough stress, avoiding slipping and cracking my head open is an extra stress-cherry on my stress-sundae.</p><p> </p><p>It's an hour and a half until we emerge from the tunnel and I see it. "Here!"</p><p> </p><p>They look at the snow-covered cliff, the broken wall (or roof?) resting against it, and the toppled stone pillar with the Veilfire brazier. With obvious confusion.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, first we need this lit." I point to the brazier.</p><p> </p><p>Solas encourages Halea to try it - she's been practicing summoning Veilfire - and after a few tries she lights it, then automatically takes out a torch and lights it. No one realizes how weird that is yet.</p><p> </p><p>I peek behind the broken wall/roof/wood thing and see the angled beam. "Okay, so we just need to walk up this, jump through the wall, then go down the stairs until we get to the chest!"</p><p> </p><p>They all look back at the snow-covered, seemingly solid wall. Halea turns back to me and holds the torch out to me.</p><p> </p><p>"Otherworldly guests, first."</p><p> </p><p>I start sweating.</p><p> </p><p>Balancing and jumping are not my strong suits.</p><p> </p><p>They're my <em>better</em> suits since I've been training, but not my <em>strong</em> suits. </p><p> </p><p>Those would be cursing and chocolate-covered macaroons.</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, I'm not...great at...you know..."</p><p> </p><p>"This is your chance to prove yourself. And that you're not trying to trick us." Cassandra's voice is commanding, and the others nod.</p><p> </p><p>Shit.</p><p> </p><p>I snatch the torch out of Halea's hand.</p><p> </p><p>"If I break my neck, someone better fucking heal me."</p><p> </p><p>I set one foot on the beam. It's slick with ice and I slip, falling forward and hitting my chin on the beam. My <em>chin</em>. Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, a little help, maybe?" I look at Solas and Halea. "As in, a little fire? Melt this ice? So I don't fucking <em>die</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>They melt the ice as I relight the torch, although the beam almost catches on fire because of how hot their spells burn.</p><p> </p><p>I begin again. Blackwall offers his forearm so I can steady myself. He's been super 'protective teacher/uncle' this whole trip. I wish I was more of a badass so I didn't need someone to baby me.</p><p> </p><p>But I'm just a baker. In a video game. Standing on a beam, asking that she not fall off of it.</p><p> </p><p>And I'm secretly glad that someone <em>is</em> around to baby me because I have no fucking clue what I'm doing.</p><p> </p><p>I feel Blackwall's fingers leave my hand - I'm finally up too high for him to keep helping me.</p><p> </p><p>I step.</p><p> </p><p>I breathe.</p><p> </p><p>I step.</p><p> </p><p>I breathe.</p><p> </p><p>Apparently I can't do those at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>Then I'm just one leap away from the ledge. One leap from the ledge, or from falling and breaking my [any number of body parts].</p><p> </p><p>Deep breath, and</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>JUMP!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And land!</p><p> </p><p>And<em> JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!</em></p><p> </p><p>I lean forward just in time, quick enough to <em>not</em> fall backwards off the ledge.</p><p> </p><p>Then I'm leaning forward <em>too</em> far.</p><p> </p><p>I fall through the wall.</p><p> </p><p>They probably call after me, but I'm too busy hearing my face smash into the stones of the chamber on the other side. I cut my lip, get a bunch of scrapes, and bruise probably half of my body.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm okay!" I yell. Miraculously - aka <em>thank you</em> game mechanic deities - the torch is still lit. "Just watch that first step, it's a bitch!"</p><p> </p><p>"How do we know you didn't disappear!" Oh, Cassandra. I'm sure she thinks it's a magic trick.</p><p> </p><p>I stick my arm through the entrance and wave it. I hear her gasp.</p><p> </p><p>Then I flip her off, and she makes her Disgusted Noise while someone else snickers.</p><p> </p><p>Once everyone braves the jump (and none of them fall on their fucking faces like <em>I </em>did), we start down the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>And we keep going.</p><p> </p><p>And we keep going.</p><p> </p><p>And we keep going.</p><p> </p><p>And we keep going.</p><p> </p><p>And I get dizzy because the flights are on the short side so it's a lot of quick turning and I start feeling a little queasy.</p><p> </p><p>And we keep going (a little slower since I'm leading and I'd really like to <em>not</em> vomit in this secret stairwell).</p><p> </p><p>And we keep going.</p><p> </p><p>And we keep going as the group grows more suspicious of the stairwell.</p><p> </p><p>And we keep going.</p><p> </p><p>And <em>finally</em>! We reach the end of the stairs!</p><p> </p><p>They see the small chest at the edge of the floor, above the terrifying void below. I can see the giant hole in the ceiling, which I remembered was in some sort of dungeon or other. I remember because I fell down that hole once, and instead of landing in <em>this</em> room I just fucking <em>died</em>. Which was some <em>bullshit</em> but whatever.</p><p> </p><p>"So where is he?" Cassandra asks, her hand on the hilt of her sword.</p><p> </p><p>"Who are you talking about? It's just us."</p><p> </p><p>"You mean, the one who spoke from the stone house isn't here?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Oh</em> because he said 'I'll be there,' right, right, yeah he's probably here but not <em>here</em>, you know?"</p><p> </p><p>I literally have no clue who this person/spirit/demon? is. I just know he gives us a sweet Flower Crown.</p><p> </p><p>I walk towards the box and lift the lid. Resting on a bed of gold coins is the Flower Crown.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">"This is it. This is it. Take it. Use it. I'm going. Laughing all the way."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>The voice is louder here, and echoes.</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra swears under her breath.</p><p> </p><p>I scoop out the gold and pick up the Flower Crown. It feels, legitimately, just like real flowers. I pinch a leaf, but it immediately springs back to its original shape. I sniff at the flowers, and they smell good! Like...magnolia blossoms?</p><p> </p><p>Color me impressed.</p><p> </p><p>Then my fingers find the thin thread of lyrium woven along the crown. This lyrium feels ever-so-slightly warm, but it still makes me shiver. Because I think about the red lyrium.</p><p> </p><p>I turn to the group.</p><p> </p><p>"SEE?! The Flower Crown! And some bonus gold! I was telling the truth!"</p><p> </p><p>I get a few murmurs, but it's clear that no one wants to stay in the cave. "Let's get out of here and test it."</p><p> </p><p>I place it on my head. We start up the stairs</p><p> </p><p><em>"I feel pretty, oh so pretty</em>," I whisper-sing to myself.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall gives me a look.</p><p> </p><p>"It's a song..." I sigh.</p><p> </p><p>The stairs give me lots of time to think about how tired I am.</p><p> </p><p>Yeah I'm tired from traveling on Boggy (like my entire lower body fucking HURTS) and from fighting and from not sleeping.</p><p> </p><p>But I'm also tired of having to explain the references I make. Of people giving me looks like I'm crazy.</p><p> </p><p>Tired because I haven't been home in...</p><p> </p><p>Months?</p><p> </p><p>I want to go home to <em>my</em> bed.</p><p> </p><p>But for now I'll settle for 'my' bed in Skyhold.</p><p> </p><p>I miss Cole. Even though he's not from my world, being around him is the closest I have to that kind of feeling.</p><p> </p><p>Of not having to explain myself all the fucking time.</p><p> </p><p>"We'll be back at Skyhold soon enough," Blackwall says, like the supernaturally perceptive teacher/uncle(/surrogate dad?) he is.</p><p> </p><p>I hope it's sooner rather than later.</p><p> </p><p>Because we need time to make a plan and get supplies.</p><p> </p><p>I'm thinking a lot of grenades and fire.</p><p> </p><p>And maybe even some Jars of Bees.</p><p> </p><p>Why not?</p><p> </p><p>But first they need to believe me.</p><p> </p><p>Which means they need to see this flower crown in action.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Mini-Game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>But this one MATTERS.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A week of traveling and four head-sized melons later, I was ready.</p><p> </p><p>The final step.</p><p> </p><p>To prove to them that I wasn't lying.</p><p> </p><p>"Melon one is a regular head," I explain. Cassandra, Cullen, Blackwall, basically anyone who looks like they have any knowledge of armor in general look at me like I'm a traveling magician getting ready to perform a cheap magic trick.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone else is curious. Except for Cole.</p><p> </p><p>Cole seems weirdly <em>focused</em>. And excited?</p><p> </p><p>Maybe the boy really <em>does</em> love hats.</p><p> </p><p>"I do!" He nods his floppy hat enthusiastically.</p><p> </p><p>I gesture to the next melon. "Melon two is your basic head covering that provides minimal coverage. Better than nothing, but not by much." The leather cap with ear flaps is set over the melon.</p><p> </p><p>"Melon three sports a great helmet." It looks like a fucking Nazgûl helmet, spiky and metal with a chainmail skirt along the bottom to protect the neck."Least likely to squish your skull."</p><p> </p><p>"And melon four looks majestic, clothed in <em>The Ardent Blossom</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>I had totally forgotten the real name of the Flower Crown Helmet. Dagna had looked at it and done some research.</p><p> </p><p>The Ardent Blossom perches on top of the melon perfectly. It looks cute. Ridiculous, and cute.</p><p> </p><p>"And now, the main attraction! I am going to hit <em>these</em> melons -" I gesture to the four melons on the table we set up where the Skyhold merchants are.</p><p> </p><p>"With <em>this</em> hammer!" I lift the wooden mallet into the sky. Blackwall gives me a thumbs up, the proud lender of this carpentry tool.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't know that it'll show us what that fancy little frilly doily hat will do, but this'll be fun, yeah?" Sera is excited, probably for the free melon. She stands in what I called the 'Splash Zone.'</p><p> </p><p>"I predict that we'll have three mashed melons by the end of this 'demonstration,'" Cassandra sighs.</p><p> </p><p>I clear my throat dramatically. "Your attention, please! Now, watch, as I smash melon one!"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>WHOMP!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Melon is <em>everywhere</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Sera is delighted, clapping and snorting at the destruction. I rub my face on the shoulder of my tunic shirt thing, trying to get melon off of my face with my melon-covered clothes.</p><p> </p><p>"So that was a regular, unprotected skull. Our control for this experiment."</p><p> </p><p>I move to the next melon.</p><p> </p><p>"Melon number two, Wizards and Warriors, is the everyday helmet of a standard soldier. Or person who doesn't want their head bonked. Here we go!"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>WHOMP!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The second melon is smashed <em>almost</em> as much as the first. <em>Almost</em>.</p><p> </p><p>When I lift the leather helmet off of the melony remains, there are a few pieces that aren't as crushed as the first melon.</p><p> </p><p>"Melon number three! What will happen here? Anyone want to guess?"</p><p> </p><p>"You'll dent the helmet." Cullen isn't amused. But that might be because he got melon in his lion-feather-mane-collar-thing.</p><p> </p><p>I <em>told</em> him to stand back from the Splash Zone, or to at least take the coat off. It's his own damn fault.</p><p> </p><p>"But what about <em>the melon</em>?" I ask dramatically.</p><p> </p><p>Cullen shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>WHOMP!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The metal helmet and melon lumpily rolls off the table. The helmet is dented, and the melon is squished in on one side.</p><p> </p><p>I show how squished it is by taking it out of the helmet and poking it with my finger. Like an overripe peach.</p><p> </p><p>"Verdict so far? Audience?"</p><p> </p><p>"The first two melons are DEAD!" Sera shouts.</p><p> </p><p>"Correct! And the third melon?"</p><p> </p><p>"Probably dead. Give it a week." Sera nods knowingly.</p><p> </p><p>"So, what will become of THE FOURTH MELON?"</p><p> </p><p>I walk over to the remaining melon, crowned with The Ardent Blossom.</p><p> </p><p>"Just get <em>on </em>with it," Cassandra says. Irritated. Of course.</p><p> </p><p>I lift the mallet into the air.</p><p> </p><p>And hold.</p><p> </p><p>And <em>hold</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"GET. ON. WITH. IT."</p><p> </p><p>I get why Varric messes with Cassandra so much.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>WHOMP!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The melon wearing The Ardent Blossom bounces off the table and rolls towards her. A good choice on the game's part.</p><p> </p><p>She picks it up, the look of Disgust on her face fading as she examines the melon.</p><p> </p><p>"It's...almost <em>untouched</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I beam. She frowns.</p><p> </p><p>"It <em>must</em> be a trick, you must not have hit it correctly."</p><p> </p><p>I gesture to the table and hold the mallet out to her. "Go ahead, prove me wrong."</p><p> </p><p>She glares at me, then looks at the crowned melon in her hand.</p><p> </p><p>She takes the crown off of the melon and looks to Varric. "Get me a fresh melon."</p><p> </p><p>Varric raises an eyebrow at her. "Without so much as a 'please,' Seeker?"</p><p> </p><p>She glares <em>even more</em>, holy shit how hard can this woman glare?! She and Leliana should have a contest.</p><p> </p><p>Cole switches the used melon out for a fresh one.</p><p> </p><p>Bless my little ghost boy's sneaky skills.</p><p> </p><p>He hands the used melon to Iron Bull, who rips it in half with his hands and starts eating it, handing the other half to Sera.</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra shoves The Ardent Blossom onto the new melon and places it on the table. Then she examines the mallet, the table, the melon, and the crown.</p><p> </p><p>It takes for-<em>fucking</em>-ever.</p><p> </p><p>"Cassandra, come <em>ooooooooooooooon</em>, it's a <em>melon</em>. Just hit the fucking thing!"</p><p> </p><p>"Quiet! I am making sure that there aren't any tricks you could still use."</p><p> </p><p>When she's satisfied that the table, the mallet, and the melon are all exactly what they seem to be, she steps back.</p><p> </p><p>Lifts the mallet.</p><p> </p><p>Aims.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>WHOMP!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Exact same results.</p><p> </p><p>Scientific proof that The Ardent Blossom kicks ass.</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra picks up the crowned melon and examines it. "It looks like...you were right."</p><p> </p><p>I beam, but I don't say 'I told you so!'</p><p> </p><p>My smile does that <em>for</em> me.</p><p> </p><p>"Cute <em>and</em> functional! Which means I know what I'm talking about and now you guys can trust me!"</p><p> </p><p>"To what end, exactly?"</p><p> </p><p>Solas.</p><p> </p><p>Of course.</p><p> </p><p>I look at Halea.</p><p> </p><p>She raises an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p><em>God</em> can everyone in this game do that <em>but me</em>?! I cross my arms uncomfortably.</p><p> </p><p>"So that when I tell all of you guys about what's waiting for you in the desert, you'll believe me."</p><p> </p><p>Stare.</p><p> </p><p>"It's wild. Trust me." I point at the flower crown on the melon in Cassandra's hand. "You have to."</p><p> </p><p>And then I remember one last thing.</p><p> </p><p>"Cassandra, let me see The Ardent Blossom!"</p><p> </p><p>I snatch it off of the melon in her hand before she can stop me and run towards the main hall.</p><p> </p><p>"Where are you going?!" Halea is evenly frustrated and confused.</p><p> </p><p>I'm high on my success.</p><p> </p><p>Fucking <em>giddy</em></p><p> </p><p>at the idea of seeing</p><p> </p><p><em>ALL OF</em> <em>US</em></p><p> </p><p>in flower crowns.</p><p> </p><p>(Maybe sneaking out my cell phone to snap some pictures!)</p><p> </p><p>What could go wrong?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>I'm down in the undercroft of Skyhold.</p><p> </p><p>It's beautiful in person. </p><p> </p><p>And <em>LOUD</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The video game usually dampens the sound of the waterfall.</p><p> </p><p>"DAGNA!!" I shout her name.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, you're back!" It's almost impossible to hear her. Seems like I'm the <em>only one</em> who can't hear normally here. "How did The Ardent Blossom do?"</p><p> </p><p>(I'm guessing that's what she says.)</p><p> </p><p>"IT WENT GREAT! IT DID THE TRICK! I WANT TO SEE IF WE CAN MAKE MORE!"</p><p> </p><p>"Why are you shouting?" She comes closer to me.</p><p> </p><p>I don't bother answering her.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm excited!" It's true. "I want to see if we can make more of these bad boys."</p><p> </p><p>She looks at the flower crown. "I don't know where we'd get the flowers...but I could work the lyrium!"</p><p> </p><p>I shake my head. "Not necessary! Not if what I think will work <em>works</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>I grab a random leather bag from near one of the forges and walk over to the chest centered in front of the entrance into the undercroft.</p><p> </p><p>The storage chest.</p><p> </p><p>My friend showed me a trick for duplicating items.</p><p> </p><p>I haven't tried it while I've been <em>inside</em> the game.</p><p> </p><p>But why not?</p><p> </p><p>What the fuck do I have to lose?</p><p> </p><p>Literally nothing! It's great!</p><p> </p><p>I put the bag next to the chest, and put The Ardent Blossom in it. Then I take it out of the bag and put in in the chest.</p><p> </p><p>Moment of fucking truth.</p><p> </p><p>I think <em>really hard</em> about the flower crown staying <em>in</em> the chest while I physically take it <em>out</em> of the chest.</p><p> </p><p>Who the fuck knows, it could work! Or maybe I'll just look totally crazy. But whatever, I already look</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>s a l o m e</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>s a l OME</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>SALOME</em>
</p><p> </p><p>SALOME!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Taking Damage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You are not invincible.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dagna thought I had died. She ran to get Harritt, who carried me up to the infirmary as fast as he could.</p><p> </p><p>I was barely breathing. My eyes were open, totally bloodshot as if I had been strangled. They found blood in my ears and in my mouth. </p><p> </p><p>I wouldn't respond to my name, to prods or shakes, to smelling salts.</p><p> </p><p> I find out all of this when I wake up, three days after I had tried to duplicate The Ardent Blossom.</p><p> </p><p>Dagna comes to see me a little while after I wake up.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm so glad you're okay." She sounds tired and relieved.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry to make you worry." My voice is rough, my throat dry and scratchy. "Did it work? Are there two Ardent Blossoms?"</p><p> </p><p>The question makes her uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>"Dagna?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, it worked. I should tell you 'no,' so you don't try again. " She isn't looking at me. "Even something as amazing as magically duplicating The Ardent Blossom isn't worth you almost <em>dying</em> over."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm with you on that one." I try to smile.</p><p> </p><p>I don't.</p><p> </p><p>We make some more small talk. Dagna promises to try to recreate The Ardent Blossom safely, using flowers from the Skyhold gardens.</p><p> </p><p>I tell her she doesn't have to.</p><p> </p><p>"It'll be good for me to have a project." She says she'll come visit me again and update me.</p><p> </p><p>I'm alone for the moment. No one else is in the infirmary, and I don't think the healer will be back until the evening.</p><p> </p><p>I'm too weak to get up. I stare at the ceiling of the infirmary. I can hear the daily life of Skyhold going on outside. The sky, what I can see of it through one of the windows, is sunny and blue. I can even hear birds.</p><p> </p><p>I know what happens when I try to cheat the game.</p><p> </p><p>I die.</p><p> </p><p>I know I didn't actually <em>die</em>, not this time. But, if Dagna hadn't been there, if Harritt didn't get me to the infirmary in time...</p><p> </p><p>I think I would have died.</p><p> </p><p>Permanently.</p><p> </p><p>And if that's what the game does when I try to use a cheat on an item...what's going to happen when I try to cheat it out of a heartbreaking decision?</p><p> </p><p>All of this had been kind of fun for a while. Frustrating, sure, but fun. Even considering the loneliness and anger at being separated from my world, this was fun. Exciting. Different.</p><p> </p><p>I've gotten used to being here.</p><p> </p><p>And I’d gotten cocky.</p><p> </p><p>And now I know what happens when I try to cheat the game.</p><p> </p><p>It breaks <em>me</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Am I willing to die for them?</p><p> </p><p>Am I willing to die?</p><p> </p><p>I'm so tired.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>The Fade</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I'm back in The Fade</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I shouldn't be able to be here, I shouldn't have a connection to this place</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But this isn't a dream</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It feels just like the time I went to The Fade with Cole, when he had used it to transport us to Haven</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Air like slightly cool mud, nausea, dew and dust in my mouth</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Echoes</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Salome?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Solas</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He's sitting on top of a low-floating rock, paper and quill in his hands</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I look up at him</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>His voice echoes in</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"I thought you said you didn't have a connection to The Fade?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He walks over the side of the rock, gravity shifting with him so he can walk perpendicular to the ground</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"I don't...I didn't..."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Yet you're here."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I stare at The Fade around me</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Maybe almost dying is what connected me here..."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Perhaps. That would certainly be an intriguing development. One worthy of further study."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I want to say: "Your compassion is astounding."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It's what I would have said three days ago, sarcastic, teasing, confident</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But I don't</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I cry instead</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"What should I do?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I don't know if I'm asking Solas, or The Fade, or myself</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>"One of them will die if I don't do anything, but I could die if I try to save them! And one of them could </em>still<em> die even if I try!"</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Solas remains silent</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>"But if I don't do </em>anything<em>, then I can't live with myself. Doing nothing feels </em>wrong<em>. I don't know...I don't know what the right thing to do is...I don't even know how I got here, or why..."</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He's clearly uncomfortable</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I'm sure that what I'm saying makes him think about himself</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I don't care</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I don't even care enough to try to add in my favorite curse words</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I don't</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Perhaps I can do some research, consult with some spirits I know."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Why</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Now that you have a connection to The Fade, I should be able to find out more about how you came to be in our world."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But why</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Why would you go out of your way for me?" I'm still crying</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He stares out at the fractured horizon</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"I believe...helping you find answers might help me."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Help you?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He doesn't say any more</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>I stay in the infirmary for two more days, then move back to my room.</p><p> </p><p>Princess Peppity-pipps comes in through a garden-facing window and curls up on the pillow next to my head as soon as I lie down. She purrs loudly and I bury my face into the thick gray fur on her back.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm glad you're still here, Chunker." I scratch her chest, and she stretches out a little.</p><p> </p><p>"Varric's friend has arrived," Cole says.</p><p> </p><p>He pauses.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry. It hurts. I...understand, not knowing."</p><p> </p><p>I reach my hand out to him, and he takes it.</p><p> </p><p>The harder I cry, the closer he moves towards me.</p><p> </p><p>He's curled up with me, his arms around me in a hug, his floppy hat awkwardly covering half of my head.</p><p> </p><p>He takes his hat off and sets it carefully on the nightstand, then wraps back around me.</p><p> </p><p>I fall asleep with Cole holding me, and Pepper's back in my face.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing gets fixed, but today didn't get worse.</p><p> </p><p>Small victories.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Readjust Settings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>New info, new view.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>'Varric's friend has arrived.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I wake up with Cole's words in my head.</p><p> </p><p>And then Blackwall's.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'You looked death in the face...'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'But you survived.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'It's not the last time you'll live.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He had been right. I had lived this time. But I can't keep assuming I'll pull through each near-death experience that comes my way.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'You need to prioritize surviving.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I sit up in my bed, rubbing at my face with one hand and biting at the cuticles of the other. I need to think about what <em>exactly</em> happened to me. If I figure out what happened to me, I might be able to stop it from happening again.</p><p> </p><p>I had tried creating...no, artificially duplicating something. Something that seemed so easy to do sitting on my couch at home. Just two buttons, pushed simultaneously, created endless item duplication.</p><p> </p><p>But <em>here</em>, I had tried it once, and it had almost killed me.</p><p> </p><p>Was it because I was <em>inside</em> of the game, trying to <em>cheat</em> it by creating more Ardent Blossoms?</p><p> </p><p>Maybe the game just doesn't tolerate using cheat codes when you're inside of the game's world.</p><p> </p><p>Trying to save them wasn't in the same category as trying to cheat the game. It was about changing the game's plot, it's story. Some of the non-plot-related changes had worked, and some hadn't. But I hadn't tried changing part of the storyline yet.</p><p> </p><p>Will the game <em>let me</em> change the story? Or is it already stuck in its plot?</p><p> </p><p>Is the game the story, or is the story the game?</p><p> </p><p>I rub my hands over my face. "That's <em>too</em> philosophical, even for <em>me</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I can't think in circles anymore. There's a lot riding on me, and I need to <em>focus</em>. I decide to start with a clean slate. And by clean slate, I mean a clean room, and a clean me.</p><p> </p><p>I wash my face with the water and soap. I wash under my arms and between my legs, getting rid of the body odor I've accumulated while lying in bed as best as I can. There'll be time to visit the baths later.</p><p> </p><p>I change into one of my outfit sets, and I comb out my hair and pull it back.</p><p> </p><p>I make my bed, folding the top of the quilt that acts as my comforter down, like a hotel bed, and leaving my pillow propped up against the headboard.</p><p> </p><p>Pepps makes her way out of the room through the garden-facing window, presumably off to get her breakfast by hunting the mice that invade the barn and pantry.</p><p> </p><p>I stand in front of my closed door, hands by my sides.</p><p> </p><p>Deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>It starts today.</p><p> </p><p>Cole opens my door from the other side and reaches his hand out to me.</p><p> </p><p>I take his hand. I may be ready to tackle the rescue mission, but I'd be lying if I said I was completely prepared. I'm glad he came to walk me to the battlements.</p><p> </p><p>"You don't have the same words you used. I don't hear them from you. Did you lose them?"</p><p> </p><p>I smile at his curiosity. "I'm trying something new. Don't get me wrong, I love a well-placed curse word. Using them makes me feel comfortable." I shake my head. "But I got <em>too</em> comfortable here, and it made me sloppy. I can't let that happen again. If I stop myself from using curse words, I remind myself that I'm not in <em>my</em> world."</p><p> </p><p>We go up the stone stairs next to the tavern, to the flat landing on the lower level of Skyhold's massive stone battlements where Varric waits.</p><p> </p><p>Varric takes a long look at me.</p><p> </p><p>"You doing alright, Freckles? We haven't seen you in a while."</p><p> </p><p>It's been a week since I saw any of the Companions or Advisors, except for Cole. I don't know if it's because they all wanted to give me some space, or if it's because they were busy doing other quests and tasks.</p><p> </p><p>"Just needed some time to myself, but I've missed our chats by the fireside."</p><p> </p><p>He chuckles. "You're welcome on my bench anytime, Freckles. Especially if you bring more of those cookies."</p><p> </p><p>Halea comes up the stairs. "Alright, Varric. Where's your contact?"</p><p> </p><p>She nods at me, but doesn't get the chance to chat. Varric is gesturing to the side, starting the cutscene.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Inquisitor, meet Hawke, The Champion of Kirkwall.</span><span class="u">"</span></p><p> </p><p>Garrett Hawke, the smear of blood/paint/tattoo/birthmark across the bridge of his nose and all, walks down from the higher battlements. I realize I'd never wondered <em>how</em> he had gotten to the <em>upper</em> battlements without anyone except for Varric knowing.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"Though I don't use that title much anymore</span>." Hawke says solemnly as he descends to the landing we're on. I mentally sigh at the possibility that we might have an Angry or Sad Hawke.</p><p> </p><p>Varric introduces Halea to Hawke, and I stand back and watch the cutscene. Cole's disappeared. He must have sensed that I felt okay, now that I was doing something more familiar.  I know there are other people around Skyhold who need him.</p><p> </p><p>Varric turns away from The Inquisitor and The Champion of Kirkwall, leaving them to talk for a few moments. He looks at me, then back at them. "Should we give them a little privacy?"</p><p> </p><p>"I need to hear what Hawke has to say, too. And it's not like what they're saying is a secret."</p><p> </p><p>Varric leans against the wall next to me, watching Hawke.</p><p> </p><p>"Cassandra's going to <em>kill</em> you, you know."</p><p> </p><p>He smirks. "She'll try, but I'm sure I can charm her into coming around."</p><p> </p><p>It makes me laugh. Damn, laughing feels really good. "Just make sure you've got good running boots on!"</p><p> </p><p><em>"</em><span class="u">You've already dropped half a mountain on the bastard,</span>" I hear Hawke say. "<span class="u">I'm sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison.</span>"</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"Oh, I don't know</span>," Halea responds, her arms crossed. "<span class="u">You did save a city from a horde of rampaging Qunari.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Varric offers a swig from the bottle of wine that he brought with him...for some reason (maybe he's nervous about how the meeting will go?)...but I decline. My stomach rumbles. The last thing I need is wine on an empty stomach. The first thing I need is a sandwich.</p><p> </p><p>Their conversation goes on. As more dialogue continues, I'm glad to find that at least we got a Humorous Hawke.</p><p> </p><p>Varric steps into the conversation briefly. "<span class="u">Corypheus got into their heads. Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again</span>." Hawke looks serious, staring at Halea.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">So Corypheus has the Venatori, the red templars, and now possibly the Wardens as well? Wonderful.</span>" Halea's flat tone implies that the situation is far from wonderful.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I didn't come this far just to give you bad news.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>My pulse speeds up. It's the part of the cutscene that I need to hear.</p><p> </p><p>That I need to know.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I've got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me.</span>" Hawke begins pacing.<span class="u"></span></p><p> </p><p>I hold my breath.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">His name is Alistair.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>My heart rises and sinks at the same time, making a weird flip-flop somersault in my chest.</p><p> </p><p>On the one hand, I'll get to meet him (<em>And maybe do more than just meet him</em>, my brain decides to add).</p><p> </p><p>On the other hand, if it was Stroud that was coming instead, I wouldn't have had to worry about choosing between Hawke and Alistair.</p><p> </p><p>My heart goes sideways as I inwardly cringe at the fact that I have way less guilt over the idea of Stroud dying to keep Alistair and Hawke alive than I should.</p><p> </p><p>I may be in a game, but Stroud's pretty much a <em>person</em>. And my first instinct <em>while in this world</em> is to be disappointed that he wasn't a candidate to sacrifice in The Fade?!</p><p> </p><p>I wouldn't give it a second thought if I was on the outside, playing the game in my pajamas on the couch. But while I'm in <em>here</em>, while everything is <em>so real</em>, it feels wrong to have hoped for Stroud's death.</p><p> </p><p>Nevermind that now. I need to pay attention. This is the world state the game has dealt me. This is what I've got to work with. I can't change the setup, but maybe I can change the outcome.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe.</p><p> </p><p>"Hawke, I've got someone else you need to meet," I hear Varric say. "This is Salome. I call her Freckles."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh? You'll give <em>her</em> a nickname, but not me or Aveline?"</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>tried</em>, Hawke, but nothing seemed to stick for either of you. Some people just aren't cut out for nicknames." He shakes his head sadly. "It's tragic but true."</p><p> </p><p>"Are you sure it's not just laziness on your part?" Hawke retorts, grinning.</p><p> </p><p>"You could always try 'Champ.'" They both look at me. "You know, short for 'Champion?' It's one we use back home."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, pleasure to meet you, Salome." I shake Hawke's hand. "Where do you call home?"</p><p> </p><p>"That's a tricky question, 'Champ,'" Varric interrupts. He pauses, getting the feel for the nickname, then shakes his head. "Sorry, you'll always just be plain old 'Hawke' to me."</p><p> </p><p>"Tricky how?" He looks a little skeptical now, a little more guarded.</p><p> </p><p>"She's not from Thedas," Halea replies, coming to stand beside me.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright, I'll play along.Where <em>is</em> she from?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm from outside of Thedas, outside of this world. In my world, all of this -" I gesture around, "is a story, 'read' by a ton of people, and for reasons that get more complicated the more I try to explain them, I know stuff that I shouldn't know."</p><p> </p><p>He's fully skeptical now. A corner of his mouth is tilted up, like he's waiting for the punchline to what he thinks is a gag. "Care to give me an example?"</p><p> </p><p>I wrack my brain. <em>Dragon Age II</em> wasn't my favorite game...I didn't hate it, but I didn't love it. I only played it twice, and what I remember is sketchy.</p><p> </p><p>When in doubt, go for the romance.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, you were with Anders, right? As in, <em>with</em> him? Or is it 'are' with him?"</p><p> </p><p>I can practically see Hawke's mental guard go up. There's no guarantee that bringing out a scene from his private relationship with Anders will bring him any closer to trusting me, but it's what stood out to me the most.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, when you and Anders first kissed, it wasn't some cute little peck on the cheek or anything. He practically mauled your face. Lots of panting, for some reason."</p><p> </p><p>Hawke's eyes go wide in surprise, then narrow in suspicion.</p><p> </p><p>"Um, not that it wasn't romantic or anything! Just, uh...the panting was...a <em>lot</em>, from my perspective."</p><p> </p><p>Varric breaks out into laughter, his barrel chest heaving</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Perspective</em>?!" Hawke's definitely freaked out. "Were you...were you in the clinic that day? Watching us?!"</p><p> </p><p>"No, and yes?"</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, <em>wait!" </em>Varric had tears in his eyes from laughing so much. "That means that <em>you</em> got Hawke and Blondie together, <em>and</em> got all the details on the first kiss? Did you get to read about their 'first sleepover' too?"</p><p> </p><p>"Uh..." I look over at Hawke, who seems like he wants the answer to that question, too. "That was more of a, 'here's the setup, let your imagination do the rest' kind of scene..."</p><p> </p><p>I look at Hawke, watching him slowly shake his head. He has no clue what to do with the information I've just told him, or with the fact that I <em>have</em> that information in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't understand. How...how do you know that? <em>How</em>?! What is going on?!"</p><p> </p><p>Halea comes to my rescue. "Hawke, we didn't believe her at first, either. But Salome's proven that at the very least the things she knows are true, and the information she has provided to the Inquisition has been useful."</p><p> </p><p>"Then either this woman is the most persuasive person to ever live, or you're all mad."</p><p> </p><p>Varric chuckles. "She's telling the truth, Hawke. I've seen it with my own eyes."</p><p> </p><p>He and Hawke stare at one another, having some kind of conversation that only they could hear.</p><p> </p><p>Then Hawke looks back at me. "Fine. But what does any of that have to do with <em>me</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>Halea looks at me, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. "That's something I want to know, too. You said you didn't want to give any details until you knew if 'he' was going to be here. You don't seem surprised that Hawke's here, so I'm guessing that Hawke <em>isn't</em> who you were talking about?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, but Hawke's the one who sets everything in motion." I take a deep breath, steadying myself.</p><p> </p><p>Halea is <em>not</em> going to like what I'm going to say next.</p><p> </p><p>"But we need to bring...Alistair...here to Skyhold before I can tell you anything."</p><p> </p><p>Halea's eyebrows lower. "You're joking." My silence tells her I'm not. "You've made us wait <em>this long</em>, and you <em>still</em> want to keep everything a secret? I <em>know</em> you know something, I just don't know why you won't tell any of us <em>now</em>." She glares at me. "How do I know you're not just stalling?"</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>am</em> stalling, Halea." My answer shocks her and she steps back. "I'm stalling because it's a matter of life and death, <em>literal</em> life and death, and we should have both Hawke <em>and</em> Alistair here, at the same time, in the same room, when I explain it."</p><p> </p><p>Varric steps towards me. "Freckles, what we're not understanding is <em>why</em>." He's confused and hesitant, and I don't blame him.</p><p> </p><p>But I won't tell them just yet. I can't. Not without Alistair.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone needs to know <em>at the same time</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I steel myself for the backlash I'm going to get. "Let's get Alistair here, then I'll tell everyone what's coming next."</p><p> </p><p>Halea opens her mouth, her face twisting in anger, but I hold up my hand. "I told you there was a big change I wanted to make, but I wanted to see what I <em>could</em> change first. Some of the changes have gone well, but when I tried to make a sort of <em>big</em> change a week ago and I almost <em>died</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I pause. Halea crosses her arms, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know what's going to happen to me when I tell you guys what's coming next. I could, literally, <em>die</em> telling it to you. And..." I shift and glance away, uncomfortable. "And I'd like to at least <em>meet</em> Alistair while I'm here. And, you know, <em>alive</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I clear my throat. "It's not just that, though. I want both Hawke and Alistair here, so that if I die telling you the details, then at least <em>everyone</em> gets the same information from the same source at the same time."</p><p> </p><p>No one says a word.</p><p> </p><p>It's so quiet I can hear the leaves rustling on the trees in the courtyards below.</p><p> </p><p>I'm kind of touched that the idea of my death is so shocking to them that it leaves them speechless.</p><p> </p><p>But this silence is starting to get uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke shakes his head. "I don't understand any of this. But it appears that the rest of you <em>do</em>. I assume that the sooner we get my Warden friend to Skyhold, the sooner you'll tell all of us what's going on?"</p><p> </p><p>I nod.</p><p> </p><p>"Then that settles it. Let's go get Alistair."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Zombies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Or, as some may call them, "the undead."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I forgot about the zombies.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>How could I forget about the fucking ZOMBIES?!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Cole lands next to me, finishing his Stealth to Twin Fangs combination with an Evade.</p><p> </p><p>"I thought you lost that word."</p><p> </p><p>"Now's not the time, <em>Cole</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>Our heads turn at the sounds of hisses and growls made by the rotting vocal chords and tongues of another wave of zombies. He focuses on them as he fades back into the Veil shadows.</p><p> </p><p>I grip my daggers tighter, sweat dripping down my face in the clammy air of Crestwood.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall uses his Shield Bash on two of the zombies surrounding him, slicing through a third. Somehow he shouts a War Cry that is both a challenge to the zombies and a command to me.</p><p><br/>"Salome, <em>fight</em>!"</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Cole had been the first one to realize it. The day before we set out for Crestwood, he showed up to my training session with Blackwall. (It felt good to get back to my regular schedule. Even getting my ass kicked by training had helped set me back to some version of normal again.)</p><p> </p><p>"Do as I do. Think as I think. Try."</p><p> </p><p>Then he disappeared. In the middle of the bright, sunny daylight. Right in the middle of the unshaded training area.</p><p> </p><p>I rolled my eyes. "I can't do that like you can, Cole."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Try</em>," He said in my ear, making me jump. "Think of nothing, think of unseeing. Be air. Be thought."</p><p> </p><p>Cole kept coming up with more metaphors until I broke down and tried to Stealth, just to make him happy. I gave it my best shot, awkwardly crouching down and tip-toeing forward slowly. Even though I <em>was</em> trying, my best effort looked <em>ridiculous </em>and accomplished <em>jack shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Cole ended up bringing Varric to the training area. "Varric, please, teach her. She can do it now, she just doesn't <em>know</em> she can."</p><p> </p><p>"I'll give it a try, Kid, but no promises." Varric looked me up and down. "He wants you to learn how to hide in plain sight, huh? The books didn't tell you how?"</p><p> </p><p>"When they, uh, 'described' it, it was more like...you created shadows or smoke or something and disappeared into it?" I kept trying to stick to the book metaphor (or the book <em>lie</em>, depending on how you look at it). I wanted to avoid describing the video game aspect of the <em>Dragon Age</em> universe, because it would make things a hell of a lot more complicated. But describing a <em>rogue's</em> abilities was <em>challenging</em>.</p><p> </p><p>When Cole 'poofed' to transport himself, there was a puff of dust/smoke ( I couldn't figure out which one it was). But when he disappeared to Stealth, I never saw even a <em>hint</em> of smoke. Which made the whole skill of Stealthing confusing. Throwing out a handful of powder as a distraction made sense. Straight-up <em>disappearing</em> didn't.</p><p> </p><p>Varric raised an eyebrow. "Like setting off a smoke bomb? Interesting, but wrong. The first step, Freckles, is to be aware of your surroundings. Look for the shadows around you, then use them to your advantage. Watch."</p><p> </p><p>Varric, like Cole, disappeared in the middle of the daylight without so much as a speck of smoke to cover him.</p><p> </p><p>I rubbed at my face in frustration. "Varric, it looks like you just vanished in the middle of a bright, sunny courtyard. What 'shadows' are you talking about?!"</p><p> </p><p>He reappeared close to where he had been standing (again, no dust or smoke). "The shadows are there, Freckles. They're all around us, even in the sunshine. You just have to know how to find them. Try seeing this one."</p><p> </p><p>He pointed to the spot where he disappeared. And I tried. I <em>tried</em>. I squinted, turned away and then looked back so fast that I felt the muscles in my neck spasm, squeezed my eyes shut then opened them up as wide as possible. <em>Nothing</em>.</p><p> </p><p>What could he and Cole see that I <em>couldn't</em>?</p><p> </p><p>As Varric tried explaining how to see shadows in the sunshine for what felt like the fiftieth time, I had an idea: what if the shadows that rogues disappear into are actually layers of the Veil that they hide under? The Veil was supposed to be everywhere, right? Wouldn't it make sense that there might be several <em>layers</em> to the Veil? That could be why they described it as 'thin' in some places - fewer layers, easier to slip all the way through.</p><p> </p><p>The idea must have unlocked a part of my brain, because suddenly I <em>could</em> see them. It was like I was wearing glasses, and someone had taken a very light gray highlighter and drawn vertical lines at random across them. Only the lines didn't move with my vision. They stayed still, like a forest of gray trees made from smoke.</p><p> </p><p>Veil shadows.</p><p> </p><p>(It had a nice ring to it.)</p><p> </p><p>I described what I saw to Varric. He pretended to wipe a proud tear from his eye.</p><p> </p><p>"I was beginning to think you were unteachable. Now that you see them, all you have to do is step into them."</p><p> </p><p>Varric made it sound <em>so easy</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I walked up to one of the Veil shadows and stuck my arm through it. <em>I</em> could still see my arm fully. "So, is my arm invisible?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry, Freckles, it only works if you're all the way in the shadow."</p><p> </p><p>"Try thinking of nothing," Cole added from his perch on the nearby fence.</p><p> </p><p>"Just dive in, and clear my mind. Great." I hesitated. "I won't, like, see <em>into</em> The Fade, right?"</p><p> </p><p>Varric had the nerve to <em>smirk</em>. "You'll just have to find out for yourself."</p><p> </p><p>I kept trying to step into the Veil shadows, but no matter what I tried, I couldn't get myself to disappear. And I really wished I could have, because three people watching me jump back and forth across a patch of dirt was awkward as <em>fuck</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Then, just like a stereotypical training scene, I realized that if I was going to Stealth successfully, I needed to Do It My Way. <em>So</em> cheesy, but <em>something</em> had to make it work, if it was going to work at all.</p><p> </p><p>I thought about what My Way would be. Stealth always seemed more like an invisibility spell than an outright <em>skill</em>. Maybe My Way to Stealth would be to <em>cast</em> it.</p><p> </p><p>I tried to pick what spell-catchphrase I should use. It had to be short and snappy, easy to say. And not <em>horrifyingly</em> stupid. Unfortunately, what I came up with was pretty awful.</p><p> </p><p>"Poof," I whispered, stepping sideways into the Veil shadow. Not my best creative effort. But at least it was a word that I associated with disappearing.</p><p> </p><p>I wasn't sure if it had worked. Everything looked the same. Until I realized the world around me had dimmed a little, like I was looking through slightly tinted glasses.</p><p> </p><p>Varric broke out into a huge grin, and even Cole had a little smile on his face.</p><p> </p><p>"Finally! Alright, Freckles, walk around, get comfortable with it!" Varric said, motioning to the training arena.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall nodded his head in approval. "Now we can <em>properly</em> get started on her training."</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the day I practiced finding and stepping in and out of the Veil shadows, trying to walk so that I stayed in the Veil shadow without accidentally breaking Stealth. By the end of our training, I was able to slide into the Veil shadows <em>without</em> having to say 'poof,' thank <em>Christ</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Even though I still needed a lot of practice to really master it, I was pretty psyched that I could <em>officially</em> Stealth!</p><p> </p><p>I could officially Stealth...</p><p> </p><p>I could <em>officially</em> perform one of the skills that I would have been able to get from the Rogue Skill Tree with an Ability Point. Just like any of the other <em>characters</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I <em>had</em> been transforming physically because of the game (maybe, still could have been the Medieval lifestyle). Was the transformation becoming...<em>deeper</em>?</p><p> </p><p>I found Solas in his study and he listened patiently to my theory.</p><p> </p><p>"Perhaps," he said. Why was it always 'perhaps' with him? "Your recently formed connection to The Fade could have caused the emergence of your new abilities. Some mages can develop the ability to pass briefly through The Fade, or use its essence by drawing on the energies that make up the Veil."</p><p> </p><p>His expression twisted slightly at the mention of The Fade and the Veil. For pretty obvious reasons. Separating the world into The Fade and the Not-Fade (waking world? What did they call it?) and creating the Veil was the Single Greatest Mistake he had ever made, after all. "I did not realize that those <em>without</em> a magical connection to The Fade could see...'Veil shadows,' as you called them. Let alone 'step into' them. I will look into it further."</p><p> </p><p>(When did he have enough time to study <em>all</em> the things he wanted to study? Did he sleep? Maybe not...)</p><p> </p><p>So during each spare moment we had on our way to Crestwood, I trained with Blackwall and Cole to develop more rogue talents. Varric hadn't given a reason for why he decided to stay at Skyhold (other than Halea's choice of which Companions to bring), but I wondered if it had to do with tormenting Cassandra a little. I would've wanted to get <em>away</em> from someone who wanted to murder me.</p><p> </p><p>As I trained, I realized that I was getting comfortable with being in Thedas, in <em>Dragon Age</em>, again. <em>Too</em> comfortable. The same level of comfortable that made me get sloppy, that put my life in danger.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Oh shit, <em>focus</em>!</p><p> </p><p>A zombie sways nearby, its empty eye sockets facing towards me. It's looking at me, just like how Boggy looks at me.</p><p> </p><p>It's <em>definitely</em> looking at me.</p><p> </p><p>I dodge into the nearest Veil shadow before the thing can rush me, and I watch as it turns its sockets over towards Blackwall, his War Cry inviting enemies to attack him. It lost sight of me, so it chose a new target.</p><p> </p><p>I move slowly towards the zombie, trying to see through the perpetual gloomy overcast of Crestwood <em>and</em> the extra darkening the Veil shadow creates. </p><p> </p><p>It's heading towards Blackwall, leaving it's back and sides exposed to my attacks.</p><p> </p><p>I've already chosen which attack I want to use first. The one I practiced for weeks, before I got my new abilities. Because now there's a chance it will actually <em>work</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe.</p><p> </p><p>I crouch down, crossing my daggers in front of me, then launch myself towards the zombie, breaking my Stealth. I twist as I jump, my momentum turning it into a spin when I sweep my arms out. As I rotate two more times, the daggers in my hands slash into the zombie.</p><p> </p><p>Spinning Blades.</p><p> </p><p>The zombie's body is diced into pieces and it falls.</p><p> </p><p>I fall forward a few seconds later, face-planting into the disgusting corpse pieces.</p><p> </p><p>I hear squishes, smell smells, and feel textures that I have <em>never</em> want to experience <em>ever</em> <em>again</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I fucked up the landing, but other wise <em>I did it!</em></p><p> </p><p>"GET UP SALOME!"</p><p> </p><p>I look up at Blackwall from the pile of yuck that I landed in.</p><p> </p><p>It's not good. We're surrounded. </p><p> </p><p>A.K.A., we're <em>fucked</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I get to my feet, slipping on the I-don't-want-to-know under me, and dive into another Veil shadow before moving towards Blackwall.</p><p> </p><p>Halea uses ice magic to freeze the zombies and slow them down, then blasts them with fire to melt them into goo. Solas unleashes Mind Blast to force them back, then Chain Lightning to hit as many as he can in one go. He and Halea are back-to-back, zombies coming at them from every direction.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall's in his own zombie circle, turning around and around like a heavily armored dreidel, striking with his shield and his sword. For every zombie he knocks down, two more take its place in the circle.</p><p> </p><p>Cole and I do what we can, darting between the two groups, trying to chip away at their numbers. Over and over, we burst out of Stealth and stab zombies in the back or the side. I try slicing them up like a blender whenever I can catch my breath enough to launch into Spinning Blades again.</p><p> </p><p>It's no use.</p><p> </p><p>We're going to die unless we get help, and now's the time to ask for it.</p><p> </p><p>I yell out the cliché line so everyone can hear me. "There's no end to them!"</p><p> </p><p>It's the perfect opportunity for the game to bring in a little Deus Ex Machina rescue. Non-zombie-related panic flashes through my brain as I realize I'm already trying to manipulate the game again, risking death by Glitch, but I don't have any other choice. Right now, it's either die by Game Glitch, or by zombies. And I'd rather not be zombie food.</p><p> </p><p>Lucky for us, the game provides our rescue in the form of two Grey Wardens who come out of <em>nowhere</em>. </p><p> </p><p>In just a few minutes, they help us eliminate the rest of the zombies surrounding us.</p><p> </p><p>When the fight's over, I try to wipe zombie goo off of my daggers before I sheathe them, but realize there's nothing to wipe them off <em>with</em>. <em>I'm</em> covered in goo, so there's no spare fabric to use. And I'm <em>not</em> wandering off to find something else to use. We <em>just</em> finished fighting off plot zombies, I don't need any random encounter zombies to come after us right now.</p><p> </p><p>Halea and Blackwall are talking to the Wardens. I forget why they're here, but I'm too busy catching my breath to join the conversation. Cole, Solas, and I try to recover a little bit away from where what might be a cutscene is taking place.</p><p> </p><p>"You've...improved," Solas observes. He's sweaty, his arms shaking from fatigue, breathing heavily.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you...<em>actually</em>...winded, or...are you....pretending?" I ask between gasps.</p><p> </p><p>He gives me a look I can't place. "I'm not as....physically fit...as I used to be...Afterall, I was asleep...for <em>thousands</em> of years." He glances over at Halea and back to me. His breathing is slowing down to normal. "And...I'm <em>not </em>invincible."</p><p> </p><p>I'm getting more control over my breath, too. I wipe at the sweat and goo on my face. "Are you immortal?"</p><p> </p><p>He has enough breath to sigh heavily. "We used to be, before..." He pauses. I nod my head, and I hope he gets that I understand what the rest of that sentence is. </p><p> </p><p><em>Before I fucked up</em>.</p><p> </p><p>(I'm taking some liberty with the wording.)</p><p> </p><p>He hooks his staff to the holster across his back, then holds a glowing hand over his arm where a nasty zombie bite has already started festering. "When it comes to battle, 'immortal' is not the same as 'cannot be killed.' I must be cautious, just like everyone else."</p><p> </p><p>He holds his hand out towards me, nodding at my shoulder, where a zombie with some particularly nasty claws took a chunk out of me. "Would you like help?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh." The wound is gushing blood, staining my goo-covered tunic-shirt-thing. "Yeah, that seems like a good idea."</p><p> </p><p>He hovers his glowing hand over my shoulder and he heals me. The blood and goo stay on my shirt though. <em>Great</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm unsure whether I remain as I was before, or if I am changed like those who were born after." He speaks in a quiet voice. Part of it's probably for privacy. Part of it's probably that he actually <em>does</em> seem unsure. I don't know if he's ever thought about it before.</p><p> </p><p>"Guess you'll have to add that to the list." He looks confused. "The list of Stuff You're Going to Study? Come on, you <em>have</em> to have a list."</p><p> </p><p>"List? Ah. You're referring to the papers in my study. I must confess, my writings are less organized than one might assume."</p><p> </p><p>"So you're 'The Messy Scholar?' Seriously?"</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs, but I swear there's a smile hidden in his face.</p><p> </p><p>We're becoming friends.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Wait.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It shouldn't be this easy.</p><p> </p><p>He should still be really suspicious of me. I know his biggest secret. I know he's half-lying to Halea, who he's falling in love with, and who's falling in love with him right back.</p><p> </p><p>And <em>I</em> shouldn't trust <em>him</em>, either. <em>I know his BIGGEST secret</em>, and <em>I know he's half-lying</em>! Plus, I don't remember enough of the lore - official <em>or</em> fan theories - to have a complete view of his plans. Or of his intentions. Or of who he is.</p><p> </p><p>But we're becoming friends? How?</p><p> </p><p>Oh. The game. The game is designed so that making friends <em>is easy</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And I'm...</p><p> </p><p>No.</p><p> </p><p>I'm not thinking about that right now.</p><p> </p><p>We're in the middle of the Crestwood zombie swarm (the zwarm?). I need to <em>focus</em> on our mission, to find Alistair and bring him back to Skyhold. And then save Hawke and Alistair from a giant spider demon. Maybe. If the game will let me.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair.</p><p> </p><p>Oh <em>shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I'm going to meet Alistair, for the first time, <em>in the flesh</em>, while covered in<em> zombie goo</em> and <em>blood</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Cole hands me a rag from...somewhere...</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks." I start wiping away the goo and blood.</p><p> </p><p>Solas looks between Cole and I. "You two are very close."</p><p> </p><p>"What do you mean?" The rag is already filthy.</p><p> </p><p>Cole has disappeared again.</p><p> </p><p>"Cole is most likely a spirit of Compassion, his nature is to help others. He's helped many people around Skyhold."</p><p> </p><p>Solas pauses to give me a long look. "But he's not nearly as attentive to others as he is to <em>you</em>. Tell me the truth: are you using him as your personal servant?" His eyes are hard and cold.</p><p> </p><p>"What?! No! Why would you think that?!" Solas glares but remains silent. "I'm not the only one he does things for!"</p><p> </p><p>I can kind of see why Solas would think that, though. Cole doesn't <em>openly</em> help the other Companions or Advisors as often <em>or as publicly</em> as he helps <em>me</em>. But that doesn't make Solas <em>right</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I can see the skepticism in his face. "You have to be around and paying attention to the little comments people make to each other to know what he does for everyone <em>in secret</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Such as..."</p><p> </p><p>"Such as Cole putting honey in Leliana's wine when she's not looking, because he knows, in that way that he knows things, that she prefers sweeter wine." Solas makes a face at the mention of honey, but I can't remember why honey would bother him. "Halea has probably heard some, too! You should ask her sometime."</p><p> </p><p>He nods slightly, barely satisfied with my answer.</p><p> </p><p>And for some reason, I feel the need to defend myself more. "Not that it's <em>actually</em> any of your business, but I worry about if I'm using him, too. He's my <em>friend</em>. I don't want to <em>use</em> him, and I don't want him to feel like he's <em>getting</em> <em>used</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Good, then you have enough of a conscience to think about Cole rather than just yourself." Solas looks out at Halea, who seems almost done talking with the two random Wardens.</p><p> </p><p>"What the fuck does <em>that</em> mean?!"</p><p> </p><p>But my almost-friend walks away, towards Halea.</p><p> </p><p>What an <em>asshole</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>I</em> have enough of a conscience to think about <em>others</em> instead of just myself?</p><p> </p><p><em>I'm</em> not the one who is planning to <em>destroy the entire world just to make myself feel better</em>!</p><p> </p><p>POT AND KETTLE, SOLAS.</p><p> </p><p>POT.</p><p> </p><p>AND.</p><p> </p><p>KETTLE.</p><p> </p><p>I'm glad that the game hasn't given me magic, because I probably would have shot a fireball at him if I could.</p><p> </p><p><em>Focus</em>.</p><p> </p><p>We've got a mission to get back to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Updated August 31* I'm replaying the game to gather more information and I DEFINITELY got Crestwood and The Fallow Mire mixed up.</p><p>In my defense: they both have zombie problems.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Meet-Cute</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The odds of it being cute are NOT in your favor.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Covered.</p><p> </p><p>In blood and zombie goo.</p><p> </p><p>This is how I'm going to meet him.</p><p> </p><p>I'd had a lot of bad first dates.</p><p> </p><p>The time that a date had repeated 'I've never dated someone taller than me' over and over again. (I'm not that tall, and he wasn't that short!)</p><p> </p><p>The time a date had described how one of his baby teeth had rotted out of his head when he was a kid, then wanted to kiss me. (He said it turned green. <em>Green</em>.)</p><p> </p><p>There were more bad first dates.</p><p> </p><p>But I've never started a date covered in blood and zombie goo. (Or ended one covered in blood and zombie goo. There has never been blood or zombie goo on any of my dates.)</p><p> </p><p>Thinking about how meeting him will go is a distraction, and I know it. A distraction from the pressure to save them and maybe die in the process.</p><p> </p><p>But it's a <em>stressful</em> distraction.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke's standing next to the entrance to the cave. Or den. Or hideout. Whatever. A black flag with a skull wearing a red blindfold flutters from wooden beams framing the entrance.</p><p> </p><p>This is where Alistair's hiding. Hiding for some reason that I can't remember. I didn't pay attention to the rest of Hawke's speech on the battlements past when he said Alistair's name.</p><p> </p><p>Halea stands next to me. "You've got to <em>relax</em>," she says. "It'll be fi-"</p><p> </p><p>"You don't know that. I'm getting ready to meet someone who I've always known as a <em>fictional character</em> that I kind of fell in love with, which already feels weird enough to say out loud..."</p><p> </p><p>(Mostly because I don't think that people inside of <em>Dragon Age</em> have had all that much opportunity to 'fall in love' with fictional characters. It happens all the time in my world. Think of how many bags and mugs and pillows say 'Mr. Darcy Is My Soulmate.')</p><p> </p><p>"...<em>And</em> that I'm trying to save from a 50-50 chance of death, maybe, <em>and</em> I don't have a <em>script</em> I can use, and <em>I am covered in blood and zombie goo</em>!" All very 'angsty video game dialogue' of me.</p><p> </p><p>Halea smiles sympathetically. "You're nervous, it's okay." She looks at the cave entrance. "But he's been hiding in an <em>abandoned smuggler's den</em>. For at least a <em>month</em>. I don't think he'll be in any better shape hygienically than you are."</p><p> </p><p>I shake my head. "<em>No</em>, you don't <em>understand</em>, you guys <em>always</em> look great in..."</p><p> </p><p>Oh fuck oh fuck <em>oh fuck</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"...chapters." Terrible save. <em>Terrible</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>Yikes.</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, every time they 'describe' someone who enters a scene, they always talk about what they look like, and it's never 'covered in mud' or 'smelly.'" I start sweating. Zombie goo, blood, and now a dash of new sweat. The rain can't wash away any of it fast enough.</p><p> </p><p>Now it's her turn to give me a skeptical look. "If you say so. But maybe the book got this detail wrong. You never know."</p><p> </p><p>I groan. Just <em>groan</em>. There's no more words for how terrible this could go for me.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I'm going in." Halea says, squaring her shoulders. "You can wallow out here, or you can join me. It's up to you."</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Glad you made it</span>," Hawke says as Halea walks up to him. "<span class="u">I just got here myself</span>."</p><p> </p><p>(Then why didn't he help us with the <em>FUCKING ZOMBIES</em>?!)</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">My contact with the Wardens should be at the back of the cave</span>." He crosses his arms.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">He's not the only Warden around here. It's a good thing his friends didn't find him in Crestwood</span>," Halea says. They were looking for Alistair? That made the whole 'hiding out in a cave' thing make more sense...</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Yes, I saw them earlier</span>," Hawke replies. Which means he <em>absolutely could have helped us with the zombies</em>. "<span class="u">They've been told he's a traitor and ordered to capture or kill him</span>."</p><p> </p><p>Hiding out in a cave <em>definitely</em> makes more sense now.</p><p> </p><p>Halea shakes her head, and her voice is bitter. "<span class="u">How much blood is shed by good men following bad orders?</span>" She heads into the cave.</p><p> </p><p>I use my gross hands to try and wipe away more of the gross goo and blood off my tunic-shirt-thing and follow her.</p><p> </p><p>The 'back of the cave' is farther back than I thought, and the more we walk, the more nervous I feel. Which is <em>stupid</em>, it's <em>so stupid</em>, I should be focusing on getting this guy back to Skyhold and...(Then my brain tries to insert that scene from <em>Origins</em>. The one that I thought was going to fade to black, and it did, and then instead of it already being 'after' it faded into awkward positions with weird camera angles and for some reason they were out in the middle of camp by an open fire?! Another 'really weird from the outside' scene, not as bad as Solas and Halea though. But the soaring music and the expressions, as best as they could get it on the graphics, and...)</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Focus, goddammit!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>...back to Skyhold and tell everyone that he and Hawke are in danger of maybe-death by a giant fuckoff spider-demon.</p><p> </p><p>We get to a wooden wall with a wooden door in it, blocking off what must be the back of the cave.</p><p> </p><p>Halea doesn't hesitate. She pushes the door open, flinging it wide, and strides right in.</p><p> </p><p>Time for the cutscene to start.</p><p> </p><p>For being a damp, drippy cave near a cold, rainy lake, it's slightly cozy. The giant fire and bright torches in several places around the cave definitely help lighten both the mood and the dampness.</p><p> </p><p>I walk up beside Halea, both of us looking around the cave for him, but he's hidden somewhere. Maybe he's hiding behind the door? Did it hit him when Halea flung it open?</p><p> </p><p>We hear the sound of a sword being unsheathed behind us.</p><p> </p><p>We turn around and he's there.</p><p> </p><p>With his sword pointed at Halea's chest.</p><p> </p><p>He's positioned awkwardly, holding the sword with just one hand, posed like he's going to start fencing.</p><p> </p><p>The look on his face is angry, eyebrows lowered, corners of his mouth pulled down. He's looking at Halea, then his eyes flick to me.</p><p> </p><p>The anger in his eyes makes my mouth go dry, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. His sword stays aimed at Halea, but the brief moment that he looks at me says, <em>You're next</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">It's just us. I brought the Inquisitor</span>." Hawke walks in just in time.</p><p> </p><p>Why the fuck didn't we let him go <em>first</em>?! Stupid video game drama logic!</p><p> </p><p>And why didn't they make Alistair's first appearance less menacing, more straightforward? Or cocky? Humorous? Why was he <em>sneaking up on us</em>?</p><p> </p><p>Yeah, we look like invaders just waltzing into his hideout, and he's on the run from other Wardens so he's probably on guard, but...wouldn't Alistair confront attackers more...heroically?</p><p> </p><p>Alistair keeps his sword pointed at Halea for a few more tense seconds. <em>Much</em> longer than in the original cutscene.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Wait<em>...</em></span><em>" </em>Alistair lowers his sword. He sounds...normal? A little bit confused, even. It doesn't fit well with the look on his face. "<span class="u">You have a Grey Warden with you</span>."</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Warden Blackwall.</span>" He enters just behind Hawke.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You're Blackwall? Duncan - my mentor - spoke of you.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Duncan. Of course. Good man.</span>" Blackwall comes up with his bullshit on the fly. It's a neutral enough statement to work.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I'm Alistair. It's an honor to meet all of you</span>." He looks around at each of us. He doesn't look angry anymore, but he's definitely not happy. The tired look of someone who has been stressed for way too long and can't pretend to be glad to see anyone.</p><p> </p><p>I mean, I get it. That's been <em>me</em> for the past week. But, in a way that's hard for me to pin down, it's disappointing.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes don't stay on me any longer than they do on anyone else, breaking my expectation of the video game meet-cute scene where locking eyes is supposed to feel <em>so fucking significant</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I wish it were someplace nicer.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Are you <em>the </em>Alistair who fought the Archdemon with the Hero of Ferelden</span><span class="u">?</span>" Halea can't stop herself from asking. Even though I've told her over and over again that yes, it'll be Alistair in the cave, the guy from the Fifth Blight, she can't fight against the cutscene.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I need to change my name</span>." A slight shake of his head, a small smirk at the corner of his mouth, and he sounds like he's making fun of himself.</p><p> </p><p>That's closer to the Alistair I was expecting. I feel relieved that he's in there somewhere. I feel ashamed that I'm expecting him to be someone he might not be anymore. It's been <em>ten years</em> since <em>Origins</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A lot happens in ten years.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Yes, that was me</span>," Alistair continues. "<span class="u">War, Betrayal, Darkspawn: All lots of fun and made for excellent stories, I'm sure</span>."</p><p> </p><p>"Actually, someone's <em>favorite</em> story," Halea says with a grin, bumping her elbow into me.</p><p> </p><p>Fucking Christ on a whole-grain <em>cracker</em>, this is NOT THE RIGHT TIME, Halea!</p><p> </p><p>She didn't pay attention to the tiredness in his voice, the irony, the bitterness. I appreciate that she was trying to wingwoman for me, but <em>timing is everything</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I think she <em>does</em> realize it. Too late, though.</p><p> </p><p>The cutscene stops, and Alistair looks at me. I can see the disbelief and annoyance taking over his ironic smirk.</p><p> </p><p>"Really? All the fear and death and destruction from ten years ago is your <em>favorite</em> story?"</p><p> </p><p>No no <em>no</em> this isn't going well! This isn't going how it should!</p><p> </p><p>Of <em>course</em> those aren't the parts I like! I like the romance, and the Companions, and the Lady of the Forest and the totally fucking weird stuff Leliana says and trying to save everyone!</p><p> </p><p>The <em>people</em> parts! Why is he assuming that I like the <em>awful</em> parts?!</p><p> </p><p><em>And why the fuck isn't the game HELPING me with this meet-cute</em>?!</p><p> </p><p>Halea glances at me, then does a double take when she registers the look on my face. It takes her another second to realize that I'm not going to respond. (I <em>can't</em>, I can't respond to him right now, it's not the time, it's not the place, I don't have the right words to say!)</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, well, Salome here is unique, maybe we'll save that for another time...?"</p><p> </p><p>He stares at me longer, then shakes his head, adopting his smirk again as the cutscene picks back up. "<span class="u">Nobody cares about that anymore. I answer to Warden-Commander Clarel now, like everyone else.</span>" The slightly humorous bitterness is back, but thankfully it's aimed where it should be. At the Grey Wardens.</p><p> </p><p>I step away as Alistair, Halea, and Hawke all talk more about the Wardens and Corypheus and the Calling and Alistair's investigations. He walks over to a table with maps and paper, his back turned to us.</p><p> </p><p>Cole is back.</p><p> </p><p>Standing next to me.</p><p> </p><p>Holding my hand as I try not to cry like a fucking <em>baby</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Solas sees us and looks like he's about to come over and give me a lecture about Holding Hands with Ghosts before he stops. He sees my face.</p><p> </p><p>I imagine what my face looks like. Scrunched up, turning blotchy red, teeth and jaw clenched as I pull my lips tight across them. Chest shuddering as I try to breathe without breaking down. Covered in blood and sweat and rain and <em>fucking zombie goo</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Cole poofs the two of us to just outside the entrance to the cave.</p><p> </p><p>I walk to the side, out of view from anyone who would come down the tunnel, and park my ass on the ground, back pressed into the rock.</p><p> </p><p>And curl up and cry like a big fucking <em>baby</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually I tip over onto my side, still hugging my knees to my chest. I want to be on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Because at least the ground can't let me down anymore than I just was.</p><p> </p><p>And I know, I <em>know </em>it was stupid or unfair or whatever to expect so much from a fucking <em>video game character</em> who isn't even programmed to like the main character let alone <em>me</em>, and he's supposed to have gone through more shit so of course the writers would have tweaked his personality but I don't know why I didn't remember that they shifted him towards the bullshit 'grittier with age' stereotype.</p><p> </p><p>And I'm still covered in zombie goo and blood and sweat and, sure, why not, let's add tears and snot and rain.</p><p> </p><p>Cole sits on the ground next to me and puts a hand on my head. "I can try to make you forget, if you want."</p><p> </p><p>"No." I don't want to forget. Because being disappointed will help me remember who he is <em>now</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It'll help keep me grounded in the fact that <em>none of this is actually real</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"You don't believe that. Not anymore."</p><p> </p><p>"Goddammit, Cole." But I feel better.</p><p> </p><p>Crying in the rain is so fucking dramatic.</p><p> </p><p>But feelings <em>are</em> dramatic. And sometimes you need to be dramatic to express them.</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes you need to cry in the rain to express how disappointed you are that meeting your fictional soulmate didn't go how you expected it to.</p><p> </p><p>Solas has joined us. Not sitting on the ground next to us, but standing in front of us. Still, he's out in the rain instead of in the warm cave. It's nice that he cares.</p><p> </p><p>"I know what it's like," he says, not looking at me. "Thinking you know someone, then finding out they're no longer who they once were."</p><p> </p><p>"You're talking about the Elven gods, right?" I say with a sniff.</p><p> </p><p>"'Gods.' They never should have risen to so much reverence. Not for what they were doing to their own people."</p><p> </p><p>"That's what you do to Halea."</p><p> </p><p>I don't say it to be mean. I don't say it to tear him down just because I'm feeling bad.</p><p> </p><p>I say it because he should know.</p><p> </p><p>He stays silent.</p><p> </p><p>"Betrayal and betrayal and betrayal," Cole says. "All the hearts get broken, and the plans to mend them fall apart into just as many pieces."</p><p> </p><p>Solas is about to storm off.</p><p> </p><p>"Solas." He stops and turns his head slightly. <em>So dramatic</em>. "You told me I had a conscience because of I wasn't a selfish, self-absorbed asshole." (Close enough) "I want you to know so that you understand exactly what <em>you</em> do to <em>her</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Do you believe that will change my plans?" A little bit of anger.</p><p> </p><p>"The only person who can change your plans is you. And the only one who might convince you to reconsider is Halea. I'm just giving you relationship advice."</p><p> </p><p>I sniff and sit up. "After all, you've been asleep for thousands of years. Your romancing skills might be rusty."</p><p> </p><p>Another imperfect back-and-forth with Solas. Friendly one second, fighty the next. Because I -</p><p> </p><p>"-have to keep reminding him to actually <em>think</em> about what he's doing. Maybe it's unfair to think that he's not <em>already</em> thinking about it."</p><p> </p><p>God<em>damit</em>, COLE.</p><p> </p><p>Solas turns his head to the entrance of the cave. We hear footsteps and talking.</p><p> </p><p>"I am," he says, before going to be by Halea's side.</p><p> </p><p>Well, good.</p><p> </p><p>At least he's thinking about it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Updated August 31* Like I said in the endnotes of the last chapter, I  DEFINITELY though Crestwood was the Fallow Mire. THEY BOTH HAVE ZOMBIES, OKAY??</p><p>And I really liked the word 'zwamp' (zombie swamp).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Encounter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Randomized? Maybe.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p><p>Note: mentions blood (fight scene).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The journey back to Skyhold starts off <em>awkward</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Outside of the game, Alistair and Hawke are just supposed to <em>show up</em> at Skyhold. Or the Western Approach. Wherever.</p><p> </p><p>Inside the game, though, both Hawke and Alistair travel <em>with us</em>. And Alistair has opinions on our destination.</p><p> </p><p>He's pissed off that we're going to Skyhold first. He's anxious about all the Grey Wardens about to royally fuck shit up because of the fake Calling that Corypheus is broadcasting into all of their brains. If we don't get there in time, they'll screw over all the Grey Wardens - and maybe all of Thedas - forever.</p><p> </p><p>And, because <em>I'm</em> the one saying we have to go to <em>Skyhold</em> and <em>not</em> the Western Approach yet, that means he's pissed off at <em>me</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Early in the trip, Halea takes me aside. "Remind me, why can't you tell us <em>now</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"We need supplies, paper, an actual <em>plan</em>. Just...look, I know waiting until we're all together might <em>not</em> be the <em>best</em> way to tell you guys. But it's the <em>right</em> way to do it. Plus, if I get to choose where I might die, I'd rather die in the War Room than out here, wherever we are."</p><p> </p><p>It's supposed to be a joke, and we both know it's not funny.</p><p> </p><p>"You'll at least convince Alistair about who you are before we get to Skyhold, right? You can do that on the road?"</p><p> </p><p>"Uh..."</p><p> </p><p>"Why are you hesitating?!"</p><p> </p><p>"He's different than from how I remember him...The Alistair I kind of fell for was the one from ten years ago. This Alistair is...just, different."</p><p> </p><p>"And that's a <em>bad</em> thing?"</p><p> </p><p>"I have to figure out how to act around him. I thought it was going to be easy..."</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head. "If what you <em>almost</em> keep saying is true, then you might not get a lot of time with him. <em>You</em> could die telling us why he and Hawke are in danger. <em>He</em> could die in the Western Approach. Would you be okay if one of you died and you never even <em>tried</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>I can't find anything to say back.</p><p> </p><p>Halea smiles suddenly, a gleam in her eye. "Don't worry, I've got a great idea!"</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>She sends the two of us into the woods to get firewood for camp.</p><p> </p><p><em>Seriously? </em>The 'go into the woods together and find firewood and forge a deep emotional connection' trope. </p><p> </p><p><em>SERIOUSLY</em>?!</p><p> </p><p>On the road, the atmosphere between Alistair and I has been tense. In the woods, it's upgraded to <em>super fucking</em> <em>tense</em>. And not the 'sexual tension' kind of tense. The 'we're about to get into a huge fight any second' kind.</p><p> </p><p>I put sticks and logs into a weird almost-backpack made of leather straps and two L-shaped pieces of wood. He does the same with his wood-pack.</p><p> </p><p>And it's so <em>quiet</em>. I think and think and think about what to say, and nothing comes to my mind except "oh god this is so fucking awkward <em>why, HALEA, WHY</em>" over and over again.</p><p> </p><p>We walk deeper into the woods, trying to fill the wood-packs. We don't talk, but we at least stay close to each other, a little over an arm's reach away. A lot closer than I would have thought, which gives me a little hope.</p><p> </p><p>Just a little.</p><p> </p><p>I see more sticks for the wood-pack, crouching down to gather them. I take a deep breath in, and let it out. Another deep breath in, and out.</p><p> </p><p>I can do this.</p><p> </p><p>I can make normal conversation like an actual person.</p><p> </p><p>I look over to him, ready to say something like...</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Actually, I can't think of what to say...</p><p> </p><p>How do I start a conversation in the middle of the woods with a guy I like but who's definitely ticked off at me right now?</p><p> </p><p>Then.</p><p> </p><p>I hear it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>snap</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I stand up and look around, sliding my daggers from their sheathes.</p><p> </p><p>He looks at the daggers in my hands. "What are you -?"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>snap</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I see it.</p><p> </p><p>And there isn't time to warn him.</p><p> </p><p>I step up onto the wood-pack to get more height, then jump into the air, daggers raised above my head.</p><p> </p><p>Twin Fangs.</p><p> </p><p>Aimed at him.</p><p> </p><p>He looks surprised and confused.</p><p> </p><p>I jab my daggers down</p><p> </p><p>into the Shriek</p><p> </p><p>that he couldn't see</p><p> </p><p>hidden in the Veil shadows</p><p> </p><p>right in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>It screeches and rears back.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes widen as the Shriek appears to him.</p><p> </p><p>The Shriek is tall, its once-Elven features stretched and warped. It screams, opening its distended jaws wide to show too many teeth.</p><p> </p><p>It reels away from Alistair. I lose my grip on one of my daggers but hold tight to the other. My weight drags it down, forcing it to bend awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>It turns, trying to fling me off to the side. I keep hold of the dagger and end up rolling to its side, its bony elbow slamming into my back as I hang off of it.</p><p> </p><p>My shoulder's twisted, I'm completely open to its attack, and I'm facing towards Alistair again.</p><p> </p><p>Just in time to see the second Shriek behind him.</p><p> </p><p>It's a dimmer color than it should be.</p><p> </p><p>Which means it's also hiding in the Veil shadows.</p><p> </p><p><em>And he can't see it</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I hope he understands me.</p><p> </p><p>"Right shoulder, straight back!" I yell</p><p> </p><p>as I feel the Shriek</p><p> </p><p>reach its hand around me</p><p> </p><p>slashing the blade attached to its arm</p><p> </p><p>across my stomach.</p><p> </p><p>Warm blood starts leaking over my hips, going cold as it drips down.</p><p> </p><p>I pull down on the dagger I still have my hand on, forcing the Shriek to the ground. I clumsily move just far enough to the side that I'm not crushed under it.</p><p> </p><p>I stomp a boot on its thin, bony back to keep it pinned to the ground and pull one of my daggers out of it.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair fights behind me, and I hear a thwack of metal and wood as his shield catches the second Shriek's blades.</p><p> </p><p>The Shrieks wear rags strung together by leather straps, and a few pieces of dark black armor dot their bodies.</p><p> </p><p>Not enough armor. There's almost nothing on their stomachs, backs, or legs.</p><p> </p><p>The Shriek that I've pinned to the forest floor has no armor on its back.</p><p> </p><p>I lift the dagger over my head and slam it down into its spine.</p><p> </p><p>It screams and twitches, and lightning travels across its body.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn't die.</p><p> </p><p>But now it can't move.</p><p> </p><p>I pull both of my daggers out of it.</p><p> </p><p>It still twitches and screams.</p><p> </p><p>Later.</p><p> </p><p>I'll deal with it later.</p><p> </p><p>I turn and see Alistair slam his shield into the side of the second Shriek's head.</p><p> </p><p>He didn't have time to unsheathe his sword, and the second Shriek doesn't give him a chance to reach for it.</p><p> </p><p>He's fighting with just the shield.</p><p> </p><p>The second Shriek slams both its blades into Alistair's shield, the force pushing him back.</p><p> </p><p>Closer to me. Good.</p><p> </p><p>I can't remember if he's left or right handed.</p><p> </p><p>For now his shield is on his left arm.</p><p> </p><p>"Hand."</p><p> </p><p>I place one of my daggers in his outstretched hand.</p><p> </p><p>He charges forward.</p><p> </p><p>I use my now free hand to press against my stomach.</p><p> </p><p>To try to stop the bleeding.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>snap</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I forgot.</p><p> </p><p>They travel in threes.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When Blackwall and I 'agreed' that daggers were the best weapons for me, I asked him about getting two <em>specific</em> daggers.</p><p> </p><p>"You've barely begun training and already you want better weapons? You'd best stick to the practice blades for now."</p><p> </p><p>I insisted. I didn't want to <em>use</em> them now, but if I could ask for any favors from the Inquisition as an organization, it was to find my two favorite daggers.</p><p> </p><p>Which would be hard, because they'd be <em>at least</em> ten years old by now.</p><p> </p><p>Olaf's Prized Cheese Knife, and The Rose's Thorn.</p><p> </p><p>I knew it wasn't a guarantee that they <em>would</em>, so I'm extra-grateful that the other Advisors agreed to find the daggers for me.</p><p> </p><p>The Cheese Knife was in Honnleath, where Shale had been found. Leliana sent her scouts there and they were able to find the chest on the random porch with the dagger in it.</p><p> </p><p>The Rose's Thorn was a lot harder to get. Because I didn't remember anything about it except for the name.</p><p> </p><p>Varric was the one to locate it. He still had some connections with surface dwarves, who had some connections with underground dwarves, and eventually they told him about a lyrium-addicted smith in Orzamar who was selling it.</p><p> </p><p>"His name's Garin. You know him?" Varric looked up from the letter he was reading to me.</p><p> </p><p>"I know who he was ten years ago. He was shaky, stammered, kind of lost track of what he was saying, but he was nice. He knew he had a problem with lyrium, though."</p><p> </p><p>"He says he'll sell it to the Inquisition."</p><p> </p><p>My hope rose.</p><p> </p><p>"For 500 gold."</p><p> </p><p>And immediately sank.</p><p> </p><p>The dagger definitely didn't cost <em>that</em> much when I bought it in <em>Origins</em>, even counting for inflation. (If Thedas <em>had</em> inflation.)</p><p> </p><p>I couldn't ask the Inquisition to spend that much on one dagger for someone who couldn't even use it yet. The Inquisition was still pretty new, building up its trade and political alliances, taking on expeditions and construction projects.</p><p> </p><p>We didn't have a lot of funds to spare.</p><p> </p><p>"That's too much money. Besides, I don't <em>need</em> it. There are other awesome daggers out there."</p><p> </p><p>It arrived a few weeks later.</p><p> </p><p>There was a note saying the dagger was for me, but nothing else. No clues about who had sent it. I thought it was Varric, but I wasn't sure.</p><p> </p><p>The next day, Leliana found me in my room, staring at The Rose's Thorn. She hadn't spoken to me any more than necessary, which made her whole 'I just wanted to chat with you' thing seem entirely suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>"How do you like your new blade? The Rose's Thorn?"</p><p> </p><p>"Leliana, <em>you</em> got it for me? How?! It was way too expensive!"</p><p> </p><p>I tried to give it back to her, shoving it into her hands, but she refused. "An old friend acquired it for me. He left Garin payment, of course, but for what it was <em>truly</em> worth."</p><p> </p><p>"Friend? One of your agents?"</p><p> </p><p>A messenger crow landed on my windowsill, then flew to her shoulder. She began untying a silver tube from its leg. "No. Although, if you know as much as you insist you do, my messenger could be considered a clue."</p><p> </p><p>"You got <em>Zevran</em> to do it! How?!"</p><p> </p><p>"He accidentally killed one of my agents, so he offered to take his place. And the true cost of the dagger plus his fee for retrieving it was still less than the price the merchant tried to charge."</p><p> </p><p>I tried to thank her, but Leliana just smiled a very, very small smile, then walked away, the messenger crow still on her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>But the daggers weren't complete yet.</p><p> </p><p>Dagna helped me with the runes.</p><p> </p><p>We added a Corrupting and a Cleansing Rune to both daggers, with Dagna promising to look into more powerful versions of those runes for future upgrades.</p><p> </p><p>The Rose's Thorn could take one more rune.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In Alistair's hand,The Rose's Thorn crackles with brilliant lightning that dances up and down the blade, harmlessly wrapping around his arm.</p><p> </p><p>And from the Shriek's screams, it seems like the dagger's working.</p><p> </p><p>I turn to face the third Shriek.</p><p> </p><p>It stands over the first Shriek, the one I paralyzed.</p><p> </p><p>It's still twitching and screaming, but it's much weaker and slower now.</p><p> </p><p>The third Shriek looks at the paralyzed one, then drives one of its blades into its head.</p><p> </p><p>It stops twitching.</p><p> </p><p>The third Shriek rises slowly. Then whips its head towards me.</p><p> </p><p>Its beady eyes focus on mine.</p><p> </p><p>It's</p><p> </p><p><em>crying</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Ma....ghilana mir....din'an</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I have no clue what it's saying.</p><p> </p><p>But it stands there.</p><p> </p><p>Bladed arms by its sides.</p><p> </p><p>Crying and repeating</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Ma....ghilana mir....din'an</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Ma....ghilana mir....din'an</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Ma....ghilana mir....din'an</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I raise my dagger slowly. </p><p> </p><p>The Shriek's arms stay by its sides.</p><p> </p><p>I don't understand what it says, but I know what it wants me to do.</p><p> </p><p>I step towards it slowly.</p><p> </p><p>It raises its head, exposing its neck.</p><p> </p><p>I think there's a thud behind me, and I hear Alistair say, "<em>Maker</em>, where did they come from?!"</p><p> </p><p>I look into the Shriek's eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Its tears flow down its face, dripping onto its distended lower jaw.</p><p> </p><p>It's a monster, and it knows that.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn't want to be a monster anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Just like Tamlen.</p><p> </p><p>I nod.</p><p> </p><p>Its jaws twist.</p><p> </p><p>As close to a smile as it can make.</p><p> </p><p>I slash my dagger at its throat, cutting deep.</p><p> </p><p>I hit the largest vein in its neck. </p><p> </p><p>Then I pull my dagger out quickly and slice through its thigh, near its pelvis.</p><p> </p><p>I cut the large vein in its leg.</p><p> </p><p>Blood gushes from both cuts, flowing fast.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Ar revas</em>," it whispers.</p><p> </p><p>The crying Shriek dies in a matter of seconds.</p><p> </p><p>I hope it was fast enough.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Alistair looks at me.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He looks scared.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He reaches down for me.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Down? When did I...</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Is he saying something?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I'm cold.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I can't</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>feel</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>him</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. The First Watch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>8 p.m. to midnight.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Blackwall~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blackwall heard a crashing sound in the forest, heading towards the camp. He unsheathed his sword, scanning the trees around him for the source.</p><p> </p><p>He expected the source to be a wolf, or maybe a bear.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, it was Alistair bursting through the treeline, running full speed into camp with Salome in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>She was covered in blood, and she had a deep gash along her stomach that had been packed with cloth to try to slow the bleeding. She was shivering and clammy to the touch. Her amber skin, usually warm and golden, was ashen. Her freckles were dark islands in the sea of her gray skin.</p><p> </p><p>Halea had Alistair place Salome on the nearest cot.</p><p> </p><p>The cut was <em>deep</em>.</p><p> </p><p>They cleaned her wounds and removed the wads of fabric - more than they could have guessed - that had helped stem her blood loss. They casted healing spells for the better part of an hour, trading off who was casting which spell, forcing themselves to drink vial after vial of bitter lyrium potion to keep their magic flowing.</p><p> </p><p>"Why is it taking so long?" Blackwall asked, tense with worry.</p><p> </p><p>"Healing magic can knit together most wounds quickly," Solas explained tiredly, a vial of the blue, glowing lyrium potion in his hand. His hand shook slightly, showing how exhausted he was by the prolonged casting. "But this wound is deep and messy, possibly made with a serrated or otherwise imperfect blade."</p><p> </p><p>Halea's hands stopped glowing and she slumped forward a little. Solas handed her the vial and switched places with her. She finished the vial in one gulp and wiped the sweat off her brow. "It's worse than that. I think there might have been poison coating the blade."</p><p> </p><p>"You may be correct," Solas says over his shoulder as he holds his glowing hands over Salome's stomach. "Our spells seem to have less effect than they normally would. Poison could be working against our healing.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Poison</em>? Darkspawn don't usually use poison." Blackwall began pacing. "Maybe these Darkspawn were sent by Corypheus, given better equipment that was already coated with it."</p><p> </p><p>"They weren’t just <em>any</em> Darkspawn. They were Shrieks." Alistair sat on the ground near the campfire, watching its flames. He hadn't looked away from it since he sat down. "There have been some reports of Shrieks in large groups using poison. A small group, though..." He shook his head slowly. "There’s still so much we still don't know about the Darkspawn..."</p><p> </p><p>"Like how three Shrieks could have snuck up on <em>a Grey Warden</em>?!" Blackwall strode over to Alistair, looming over him. "How were they able to ambush you?!<em>You should have been able to sense them!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Alistair dug a hand into his hair, gripping his head as if in pain. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Well?</em>" Blackwall was seething with rage, Alistair’s silence making it worse.</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>told</em> you, back in Crestwood. <span class="u">Whenever things are quiet, I can hear it</span>. The Calling. Doesn't matter if it's just a trick by Corypheus, or the real thing. The fact is I hear it all the time. <span class="u">Like a song you can't get out of your head</span>."</p><p> </p><p>"And what does that have to do with nearly getting Salome <em>killed</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>Alistair's other hand went to his head, pressing he was trying to keep his skull from splitting. "It was so <em>quiet</em> in those woods, all I could hear was The Calling."</p><p> </p><p>"’Quiet?’ You didn't even try <em>talking</em> to the girl?"</p><p> </p><p>Alistair let his hands drop and finally looked at Blackwall. "Oh, silly me. I didn't realize that gathering firewood was supposed to be a social activity. I'll work on my sparkling conversational skills for next time."</p><p> </p><p>"The next time you let a band of Shrieks ambush you?" Blackwall glared at him. Alistair at least had the decency to look embarrassed by his callous comment.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Y</em><em>ou've</em> been hearing The Calling, too, haven't you? It's like a fly buzzing in the back of your mind. The more I hear it...the more it drives me mad. You understand how consuming it is, don't you?" There was desperation in Alistair's words.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall <em>didn't</em> understand. He had to <em>pretend</em> that he did, but he didn't actually know what hearing The Calling was like.</p><p> </p><p>And he didn't care. Not now.</p><p> </p><p>"You can't use The Calling as an excuse for allowing Darkspawn to ambush you and Salome in the woods."</p><p> </p><p>"What do you want me to say? I’m sorry. I made a <em>mistake</em>." He looked away from Blackwall.</p><p> </p><p>"A mistake that might cost Salome <em>her life</em>!" Blackwall yelled, frustration getting the better of him.</p><p> </p><p>"She was capable of handling herself! As a matter of fact, <em>she</em> saw the Shrieks first. They did that sneaky thing, appearing out of nowhere. Like that pale boy who shows up at camp sometimes."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>WHY DIDN'T YOU PROTECT HER?!</em>" Blackwall's shout echoes through the forest.</p><p> </p><p>"Look...I'm truly sorry for what happened. And I hope she...I hope she makes it." His gaze returned to the flames of the campfire. "But you know as well as I do that when it comes to the Darkspawn, <em>even</em> when we give it our best effort, we can't always save everyone. We don't make it fast enough to every village that gets overrun. Fellow Wardens, our brothers and sisters, fall in battle <em>right beside us</em>. <em>We can’t save everyone every time</em>. Believe me, I wish we could...”</p><p> </p><p>"You can <em>try</em>." Blackwall's rage suddenly disappeared. <em>He</em> could have tried, back in Orlais. Back when he was Thom Rainier. His hypocrisy tasted like ashes in his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>"That's <em>enough</em>." Solas' tired voice filled the brief silence in their argument.</p><p> </p><p>His hands stopped glowing and he sat back on his heels, rubbing his forehead. Halea placed a concerned hand on his shoulder, holding out another vial of lyrium to him, but he waved it away.</p><p> </p><p>"We've done all we can for now. Her wound is healed, but there is still poison in her blood. It is up to her, now."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair's voice carried to Solas, but he didn't look away from the campfire. "Was the poison made with Darkspawn blood?"</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall held his breath. He hadn't considered she might become infected with the Taint in the Darkspawn blood. If she became Tainted, she would either die, or she could go through the Joining and be recruited into the Grey Wardens. Which still carried a chance that she would die.</p><p> </p><p>"No. We would have seen it start to discolor her veins by now.” The relief Solas’ words created only lasted for a moment. “But I cannot be sure <em>what</em> poison they used. And we can't risk <em>guessing</em> which one it was. Any antidote I try to give her now could cause her more harm if it's not the correct one."</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall turned to Solas. "You said 'it's up to her now.' That means there's a chance she'll survive?"</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. "It would be wise if we watched her through the night. If she becomes worse, it might give us a clue of what poison was on the Shriek's blade. Then I might be able to create the correct antidote. If there’s enough time.”</p><p> </p><p>Halea stood up from her position next to Salome's cot, stretching her legs. "I can take third watch. I'd offer to take first, but I -" She swayed a little, and Solas caught her, looking at her worriedly.</p><p> </p><p>"We've both spent much of our energy performing the healing spells. Halea and I should rest until third watch. If something changes before then, even if it’s the slightest change in the smallest way, come wake me."</p><p> </p><p>Halea nodded, letting Solas steer her towards their tent, dragging her feet from exhaustion.</p><p> </p><p>"That leaves us." Hawke slipped off of the crate he was sitting on near the wagon and stepped into the light of the campfire. He had been so quiet when Alistair returned with Salome that Blackwall had almost forgotten he was there. "Between the three of us, we should be able to handle two watches."</p><p> </p><p>"Four of us," Blackwall replied. He motioned towards Salome's form on the cot. The boy was sitting on the other side of the cot, his hand over hers, staring at her from under his enormous hat. "I can take the first watch with the boy."</p><p> </p><p>He still wasn't sure what the boy's name was, or how long he had been with the Inquisition. He knew he had seen him before, though.</p><p> </p><p>"Cole," the boy said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>"Cole, right. Cole and I will take first watch, you two take the second."</p><p> </p><p>Hawke nodded and made his way back to the wagon, grabbing his sleeping roll and setting it out. Blackwall glared at Alistair until he got up and did the same.</p><p> </p><p>The night slipped by as he sat next to Salome with the boy...Cole. Yes, his name was Cole. Salome was still ashen, dark circles appearing like bruises underneath her eyes. Blackwall pressed the back of his hand on her forehead. Instead of the chill he expected to feel, it felt like her skin was on fire.</p><p> </p><p>He went and woke Solas, speaking with him quietly so they didn't wake Halea.</p><p> </p><p>"There are too many poisons that can cause fever. Keep watching her, try to cool her off if you can."</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall quickly got a bowl of water and a rag. He wasn't sure that it would do any good, but he remembered his own mother doing it for him when he ran a fever. He dipped the rag into the water, wrung out the excess, and carefully pressed it to her forehead.</p><p> </p><p>"That was a long time ago," Cole said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>"What was?" Blackwall was slowly remembering, there was something about Cole, something odd...</p><p> </p><p>"I can hear your memories," Cole said, as if replying to Blackwall's thoughts. "Soft, cool skin, the scent of fresh water and sunshine. You were very sick, she brought you the water and washed the fear away. Your mother. You loved her very much."</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall nodded. "Now I remember you."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes."</p><p> </p><p>They were silent for a while, listening to the crackling fire, Hawke's snores and Alistair's restless turning, and the animals moving quietly in the dark woods beyond the light.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm scared too."</p><p> </p><p>Cole had said it so quietly that Blackwall wasn't sure if he had spoken at all. He couldn't see Cole's face underneath his enormous hat, but he glanced at his hand. He held onto Salome's limp hand so tightly, his already pale knuckles had turned bone white. They shook too, just a little. He wasn't sure whose fear Cole was feeling. Blackwall's, his own, both.</p><p> </p><p>"She's strong, lad. She'll pull through."</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall said it with more conviction than he felt. </p><p> </p><p>He glanced at the stars, seeing how far they had moved. "Come on, lad, time to wake up the next watch."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. The Second Watch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Midnight to 4 a.m.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Alistair~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alistair was already up when Blackwall came to wake them for their shift.</p><p> </p><p>He had been awake the entire time, listening to the occasional comment from Blackwall to the boy who sat beside her.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair was glad he and Hawke were taking the watch together. He had no desire to sit and be lectured by the older Grey Warden about how he had failed to protect her, and it was his duty to, and how could he have <em>not</em> sensed the Shrieks <em>right next to them</em>, and...</p><p> </p><p>"Stop that," Hawke said, snapping Alistair out of his thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>"Stop what? Being ridiculously handsome?" Alistair knew he made jokes when he was nervous. So did everyone else who talked to him for more than five minutes. Except for Blackwall, apparently.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke was unfazed. "Stop punishing yourself in your head. You and I might not be close friends, but I've been around another handsome blonde who spent too much time blaming himself for things he couldn't control. And we both know how <em>that</em> turned out."</p><p> </p><p>Anders. Hawke had asked Alistair to keep an eye out for him in his travels and investigations. He wasn't sure if it was because Hawke truly didn't know where Anders was, or if he was just pretending he didn't. He didn't bother correcting Hawke about his hair.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair sighed. "You're almost right, but so is Blackwall. I <em>should</em> have been able to sense three Darkspawn that close to us."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I can hear talking...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Even with The Calling playing in your head? When was the last time you were around any Darkspawn to sense?"</p><p> </p><p>"A few weeks ago. I hid in the wrong cave while avoiding a group of Wardens hunting me. Turns out it was an entrance into the Deep Roads. Just a few Genlocks and a Hurlock, though."</p><p> </p><p>"And how soon did you sense <em>them</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"I heard them before I sensed them. Not a good sign, if I'm being honest."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That voice...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hawke sat back, thinking. "So the Calling is getting louder, and your ability to sense Darkspawn is getting weaker." He stared into the sky. "I hope Bethany is alright."</p><p> </p><p>Right, Hawke's sister, inducted into the Wardens because she got infected with the Taint while on a Deep Roads expedition. Lucky that Stroud and his Wardens had found her and she had passed The Joining, but she had been bitter about being forced into a new life. Anyone would be.</p><p> </p><p>"Blackwall doesn't seem to be affected by Calling. Maybe your sister isn't either. Or maybe Blackwall's found a way to block it somehow. But if he did, then why didn't he write to Weisshaupt and tell the First Warden?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Next to me...but where am I...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"You've already said corruption's leaked into the Orlesian Wardens. Maybe he's being as cautious with his information as you are."</p><p> </p><p>"I dunno. Something's off about him..."</p><p> </p><p>Hawke stood up, brushing himself off. "Well, while you ponder that, I'm going to have a look around the perimeter. Don't get too lost in there." He tapped his temple, then walked off towards the treeline.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I got hurt...it must be bad...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Alistair looked at her. He had avoided looking at her as long as he could, but now he was with her alone. He had to watch her to see if she got worse.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It's not your fault...you couldn't see them...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>To protect her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Woodsmoke, oiled leather, unfamiliar sweat...something else...I can't place it...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The way the others treated this woman made it clear that she was different. They had immediately listened to her when she <em>insisted</em> that they travel to Skyhold first, ignoring his protests.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I hope you understand...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A little anger flared up in him, how easygoing the Inquisition was being with the fate of the Grey Wardens and of all Blights forever. But looking at her now, lying unconscious and struggling for her life, his anger died away again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I want to wake up...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>There was some reason why she was so important. He just didn't know what it was.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Flickering light...the campfire...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hawke had tried explaining it. <em>She's from outside of Thedas, and she's sort of a </em><em>soothsayer from what I can gather. A soothsayer with a terrible memory who can't learn anything new about the future, just what she 'remembers.' Says we're all just some story in her world.</em> He shook his head. Hawke's explanation hadn't made a bit of sense. In fact, it made this woman seem like she had lost her mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Bergamot...and olibanum...that's the scent...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yet the Inquisitor and her Advisors all listened to her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Wake up...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He grabbed the rag, re-wet it, and patted her forehead with it, like Blackwall had commanded him to.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Wake...up...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her eyelids fluttered.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Light...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>That hadn't happened before. Should he go wake Solas? He should probably go wake Solas.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Someone's there...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair?" Her voice was weak, her eyes barely open a sliver, but she was awake.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It's you...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"I should go get Solas." He blurted it out.</p><p> </p><p><em>Idiot</em>. He should have asked 'how are you feeling?' first!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Please stay...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Please stay."</p><p> </p><p>A muscle in her arm twitched. He thought it was another new symptom, until he looked down at her hand and saw that she was trying to turn it over, palm up.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I just want to connect...</em>
</p><p>"I..."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Too soon...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She let out a short sigh that could have been a laugh.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>At least...I'm awake enough to see that. It's okay.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"It's okay." She kept her hand palm up. Maybe too tired or weak to move it back. Maybe to keep it open.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>So tired...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Solas and the Inquisitor have done what they can. Your wound's all healed, but the Shrieks had poison on their blades. You need to rest so you can recover."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I thought I was invincible again...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Another short sigh. Definitely a laugh.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Not even a Game Glitch. It's a battle wound. Just like any other character. Just like anyone else.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Just like anyone else," she whispered. He didn't know if she was becoming delirious or if this was part of the soothsaying that Hawke had mentioned.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It's become a part of me...or I've become a part of it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He searched for something to say. <em>Not</em> talking with her could have been part of this whole mess. It was only right that he talk to her <em>now</em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>How much of me has been replaced by the game?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"You did a good job on those Shrieks. In fact, I should thank you. You spotted them before I did. You probably saved my life."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I wanted to keep you safe...</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>And I should have tried harder to keep yours safe,</em> he thought.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>They hid in the Veil shadows and they barely made a sound. They were very sneaky.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"They were...very sneaky..." Her breath was shallow, making her pause between phrases.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You'll like that.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"That's what I said!" His mouth quirked up on one side in a sad smirk. "You have to get better so you can tell them I was right."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Finally making a joke with me...I wish I could smile...if everything didn't hurt...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The corners of her mouth twitched up, like she was trying to smile.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I should tell you...I'll get right on that...you'll like that too...oh, the Shriek...the third one knew...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"I'll get...right...on that..." She tried to draw in a deeper breath, but didn't have the energy to. "The...third one...knew..."</p><p> </p><p>"It 'knew?' What did it know?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It was crying...It knew it was a monster...it asked me to end it...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Knew it...was a...monster...it asked me..." She had to stop to catch her breath back.</p><p> </p><p>"It...asked you to kill it?" A very slight tilt of her head. A nod. "That happened before, in camp one night during the Fifth Blight. A group of Shrieks attacked us. One of the Shrieks had been an elf, but he had somehow been turned into a Darkspawn. He recognized the Hero of Ferelden, then asked to die. It was...awful. But good, in a way. It got to choose its fate."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Poor Tamlen...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Tamlen..."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair sat back, surprised. "How did you...How did you know the Shriek's name? We never told anyone. And it was ten years ago!"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It's not the right time to tell you...maybe you'll believe that I'm special...it's just too much to say right now...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"I'm special..." Her mouth twitched again. "Too much...to say...right now..."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I'm so tired...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Right, of course. You should rest. And I should really get Solas. He would want to know that you're awake."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I hope you sit by me again...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She slightly tilted her head again. He dipped the rag in the water, setting it on her forehead, then made his way to Solas' and the Inquisitor's tent. He briefly thought that he should knock. He knew Solas and the Inquisitor were together - that much was obvious on the road - but he also knew that people who were together and had their own tent liked to be <em>together</em>. Without interruptions.</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, feeling stupid. They were both too exhausted from magic. And he would hear them, wouldn't he?</p><p> </p><p>He crouched by the tent entrance and whispered for Solas. He came to the tent entrance, bags under his eyes. He hadn't even changed out of his clothes yet.</p><p> </p><p>"Is it time for the next watch?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oiled leather, wood smoke...olibanum...bergamot, you...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"No, not that. She's awake."</p><p> </p><p>"Awake?" Solas' eyes widened, instantly awake himself. He grabbed his staff from inside the tent and quickly got to his feet. "How long?"</p><p> </p><p>"A few minutes at most."</p><p> </p><p>"Minutes? Why didn't you wake me sooner?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Even if I can't...stay....awake.....</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"She...she asked me to stay. So I did."</p><p> </p><p>Solas muttered something in elvish under his breath, already on his way towards her cot.</p><p> </p><p>She was asleep by the time he got there. He muttered again, perhaps using an elvish curse, then examined her. He looked carefully at the rise and fall of her chest. "Her breathing is shallow, but steady," he murmured.</p><p> </p><p>He noted her open palm. "Did she do this, or did you move her?"</p><p> </p><p>"She did it." He felt heat rise in his face as he remembered that she had gone through the trouble of turning her hand to ask him to hold it. At least, that's what he <em>thought</em> she was asking.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I.......could......tell.......</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Solas nodded, then felt her wrist, closing his eyes to concentrate on her pulse. "Steady, but also weak."</p><p> </p><p>Finally, he took a funnel usually used for filling the waterskins and placed the wide end on her chest, over her heart. He leaned down and put his ear to the narrow end. "Everything sounds normal. Weak, but normal."</p><p> </p><p>"That's good, right?"</p><p> </p><p>Solas nodded. "Yes, but don't let your guard down. Keep watching her. And wake me <em>immediately</em> if something else changes. <em>Immediately</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair mumbled he would, and Solas set off for his tent to catch a little more sleep.</p><p> </p><p>He sat by her side again, looking at her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It's you...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He thought he saw her lips twitch in a smile again.</p><p> </p><p>He folded his hands and pressed them to his lips. He could have been praying to the Maker or Andraste. But he didn't know who he was praying to. He was just praying.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Please wake up, please wake up, please wake up, please wake up, please wake up-</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hawke finally came back a few minutes later. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. The Third Watch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>4 a.m. to 8 a.m.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Solas~<br/>------<br/>~Halea~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Solas and Halea took the third watch of the night.</p><p> </p><p>They were both still spent from casting so many spells on Salome, trying to heal her faster than the wound and the poison killed her.</p><p> </p><p>Solas did another examination of Salome, but he didn't find any new changes.</p><p> </p><p>Comforting and disconcerting. Comforting, because she wasn't worsening. Disconcerting, because it meant he still had no clues to help him identify the poison affecting her.</p><p> </p><p>"She's no worse, but she's also not improving."</p><p> </p><p>"Should we try more spells?" Halea paced, keeping herself awake and keeping her worry at bay. "Maybe it's a war of attrition: we keep healing her longer than the poison can kill her?"</p><p> </p><p>Solas stepped back, feeling the Veil around him. Although it wasn't particularly thick here, there was enough to use that he could still cast a barrier without completely exhausting himself.</p><p> </p><p>He stepped forward and made a motion with his staff and hands, saying the incantation. A barrier appeared around Salome's cot, cocooning her in healing energy borrowed from The Fade.</p><p> </p><p>"There. It won't last long, but it should help. Especially if your theory is correct."</p><p> </p><p>Halea nodded and kept pacing. "She's got to make it back to Skyhold. There are supplies in the Infirmary we could use on her, and she still hasn't told us about whatever's putting Hawke and Alistair in danger!"</p><p> </p><p>Solas tilted his head and looked at her. "I admire that you're concerned for their lives, but is it necessary to put ourselves in danger on their behalf?"</p><p> </p><p>She abruptly stopped pacing. "You're joking, right?"</p><p> </p><p>He forgot how his life before, and the millennia in Uthenera, had shaped his perspective to be very different from shorter-lived beings. Oftentimes, it made him seem callous.</p><p> </p><p>But he knew this was an important question, whether she wanted to consider it or not.</p><p> </p><p>"I didn't mean to imply that we shouldn't attempt to help them. I'm only asking that we consider how much danger we are putting ourselves in. We still have much to do if we are to stop Corypheus from completing his plans."</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't let Halea get distracted from her goal.</p><p> </p><p>Because once Halea had accomplished her goal, then he could continue working towards his own.</p><p> </p><p>He tried to push away the sharp knife of guilt that dug into his heart.</p><p> </p><p>'<em>How do I know that you created the Anchor and gave it to Corypheus?'</em></p><p> </p><p>Salome hadn't been entirely correct, but it was enough to make him believe that she had known much of his plan before she met him.</p><p> </p><p><em>'</em>And<em> how do I know that you're planning to blast this current world to nothingness to restore your past world in a misguided attempt to ease your own guilty conscience?'</em></p><p> </p><p>'A misguided attempt to ease his guilty conscience,' she had called it.</p><p> </p><p>She was a human. Mortal. Seeing this world from afar, just as he did. But she liked <em>this</em> world, and lacked the perspective he had. Of course she would do what she could to dissuade him.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn't concerned with his conscience. He was concerned with redemption.</p><p> </p><p>He must make amends.</p><p> </p><p>He must undo his mistake.</p><p> </p><p>He must restore what he had destroyed.</p><p> </p><p>He must bring back Elvhenan.</p><p> </p><p>He would take whatever the punishment the Elvhen gave him. <em>After</em> he brought them back into being.</p><p> </p><p>By tearing down the Veil and destroying this world.</p><p> </p><p>Corypheus had ruined his original plan. All Corypheus had to do was to unlock the power held within the Orb of Destruction and die in the process. Then Solas would have collected the Anchor, torn down the Veil with the Anchor's power, burned through this world, and brought back Elvhenan.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, Corypheus had sacrificed the high priestess so she died in his stead, letting him survive the ritual and throwing all of Solas' plans into disarray.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>SOLAS</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"My apologies, I was lost in thought."</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head, pacing angrily. "You can't just tell me to put a value on someone's life, compare it to my own, and then just start daydreaming!"</p><p> </p><p>"Do you admit that as the bearer of the Anchor, your life is more significant than most others? That you must preserve your own life to complete the higher goal of defeating a great evil?"</p><p> </p><p>She continued pacing, her brows lowered in anger. "I might have a job to do, but that doesn't mean I get to judge who's worth saving and who's worth sacrificing."</p><p> </p><p>"Do you not judge prisoners of the Inquisition from a throne in the main hall of Skyhold?"</p><p> </p><p>She slowed, then stopped, her back to him. Her shoulders were tense. He suspected that if he could see her face, he would see anger there.</p><p> </p><p>The knife of his guilt twisted cruelly in his heart, burying itself deeper.</p><p> </p><p>Halea turned on her heel and walked towards the woods.</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, where are you going?"</p><p> </p><p>"To find one of the Shriek's blades. If I can bring it back, we can figure out what poison they used on Salome. And try to <em>save her</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"You don't know where they were attacked!"</p><p> </p><p>"I'll be <em>fine</em>."</p><p> </p><p>She disappeared from his view.</p><p> </p><p>He didn't know if he should follow her.</p><p> </p><p>She had become a complication for him. </p><p> </p><p>Her kiss in The Fade had taken him by surprise. His reaction to it, to reach for her and return her affections, had surprised him even more.</p><p> </p><p>Each moment with her weakened his resolve to go through with bringing back Elvhenan.</p><p> </p><p>Each kiss tied him just a bit more to this false world.</p><p> </p><p>Each night spent holding her broke him further and further apart.</p><p> </p><p>He loved her to the point of forsaking himself.</p><p> </p><p>And he could not afford that.</p><p> </p><p>But surely he could still enjoy their time together. Their goal was the same: Defeat Corypheus.</p><p> </p><p>After that was achieved, he could complete his other goals: Retrieve the Orb of Destruction to remove the Anchor from Halea, tear down the Veil, and bring back Elvhenan.</p><p> </p><p>He could detach himself from her before then.</p><p> </p><p>Surely.</p><p> </p><p>The barrier of healing magic faded. Salome looked just a bit better, but not by much.</p><p> </p><p>He cast a new barrier, more healing magic flowing into her. Then he cast a second barrier, for protection, and followed Halea into the woods.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He was such an <em>ass</em>, sometimes!</p><p> </p><p>Halea followed the path of broken branches and trampled leaves that Alistair had made. He had been in such a hurry that he left a clear path back to where they must have fought the Shrieks.</p><p> </p><p>Halea's stave glowed with soft white light, letting her walk down the path while her thoughts wandered.</p><p> </p><p>Solas was an <em>ass</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted her to give up on saving <em>both</em> Hawke and Alistair, two people who could <em>both </em>help the Inquisition, because it could put her <em>in danger</em>?! People wanted her dead on the battlefield <em>and</em> in politics. She ran headfirst into demons and Red Templars and Venatori <em>all the time</em>. She was always <em>in danger</em>!</p><p> </p><p>And that part about judging people in Skyhold...</p><p> </p><p>He didn't even <em>remember</em> that she had always, <em>always</em> found a way for each prisoner to live. Either to work for the Inquisition, or to be punished for their crime in kind. <em>Never</em> by execution.</p><p> </p><p>How could he compare sitting in judgement in Skyhold, to <em>knowing</em> that either Hawke or Alistair could die, and choosing not to do anything to help them?</p><p> </p><p>She finally found the attack site. She glanced behind her, measuring the path Alistair had made. "He ran a long way to get her back to camp..."</p><p> </p><p>She looked at the Shriek corpses. Their shapes looked familiar, but she didn't know why. Her clan had never had many encounters with Darkspawn, and had even less lore about them.</p><p> </p><p>She saw that one corpse had rags tied to its body like makeshift pants, while the other two seemed naked.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>That's</em> where Alistair got the cloth for her wound. Gross..."</p><p> </p><p>Stuffing the cloth into Salome's wound had helped stop her bleeding, but he had needed a <em>lot</em> to fill the deep gash.</p><p> </p><p>Halea walked to the nearest Shriek corpse and examined the blade attached to a gauntlet on its arm. It was definitely coated with something.</p><p> </p><p>She unbuckled the primitive gauntlet and removed it from the corpse, then stood back, looking at them one more time.</p><p> </p><p>They looked so familiar...</p><p> </p><p>It made Halea's skin crawl.</p><p> </p><p>She waved her stave and said an incantation, setting the bodies on fire and instantly feeling more at ease. Then she heard Solas call to her.</p><p> </p><p>Why did he follow her?! Did he think she couldn't get the blade on her own?</p><p> </p><p>She sighed angrily and walked back towards the camp, blade gauntlet in her hand.</p><p> </p><p>Solas met her halfway up the path.</p><p> </p><p>"Good, you're safe."</p><p> </p><p>"I found the blade. There was definitely poison on it. Here." She held it out to him, gauntlet first, then walked around him once he took it.</p><p> </p><p>"Where-"</p><p> </p><p>"Let's get back to camp." She didn't turn to look back at him, but kept walking. "If you're here, that means we left Salome alone. Which you said we <em>shouldn't</em> do."</p><p> </p><p>She was angry with him. He could be so <em>cold </em>and <em>unfeeling</em> sometimes. He was smart, but he could be so <em>stupid</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Halea, wait." His voice was soft, pleading.</p><p> </p><p>She stopped. She wasn't going to turn back around, but she couldn't ignore him when he used that tone.</p><p> </p><p>She heard him drop the Shriek blade and his staff,  walking to stand behind her, gingerly placing his hands on her shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry. <span class="u">Most people act with so little understanding of the world</span>, or concern for it. I've become wary of others, of their intentions."</p><p> </p><p>Halea still didn't turn to face him.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You're not what I expected</span>, Halea. You surprise me from moment to moment. I have come to value our time together and..."</p><p> </p><p>She turned her head very slightly. "And?"</p><p> </p><p>"And <span class="u">losing you would</span> destroy me."</p><p> </p><p>He would wax poetic for <em>hours</em> about the wonders he had seen in The Fade, but getting him to express how he <em>felt</em> was another thing entirely.</p><p> </p><p>It was rare, but one peek into his heart, one moment of vulnerability from him, and she melted.</p><p> </p><p>There was romance underneath all that intellectual vanity, and she treasured each time he expressed it.</p><p> </p><p>She turned, letting her staff fall to the side, staying near to him. "You won't lose me if you just <em>trust me</em>."</p><p> </p><p>He wrapped his arms around her, leaning in towards her. "<span class="u">It's been so long since I could trust someone</span>."</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I know</span>," she said as she wrapped her arms around him in return.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I'll work on it</span>."</p><p> </p><p>Those words, out of any other man's mouth, would have sounded like a joke.</p><p> </p><p>Solas said them with the gravity of a promise.</p><p> </p><p>Halea tilted her head up and gently, tenderly kissed him.</p><p> </p><p>He returned her kiss, then returned it again, and again, his passion growing each time.</p><p> </p><p>She smiled and pulled away. "We can't stay here, we've got to get back to camp. We have an antidote to find."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, you're right."</p><p> </p><p>They retrieved their things and went back to the camp.</p><p> </p><p>It took the rest of the night, but Solas was able to identify which poison the Shrieks had used. </p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Tears of the Dead</span>. This one is of high quality, made with several herbs to increase its effect. If I can get Prophet's Laurel and Crystal Grace, I can make the antidote."</p><p> </p><p>The sky lightened from purple to pink, and other members of the camp started waking up.</p><p> </p><p>Halea sent Blackwall to scout for Crystal Grace, and Hawke offered to make the two hour journey back to the Storm Coast to find the Prophet's Laurel.</p><p> </p><p>By noon, after the administration of the completed antidote, Salome's breathing had eased, and the color had started returning to her skin.</p><p> </p><p>Halea had expected Alistair to complain about the half-day delay, but he was unusually quiet.</p><p> </p><p>He even offered to ride in the wagon with Salome as they began the day's journey.</p><p> </p><p>Halea smiled to herself.</p><p> </p><p>She knew the ‘gathering firewood’ trick would work.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Doubt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>But how can you be <em>sure?</em></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Alistair~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was fine.</p><p> </p><p>She was going to be fine.</p><p> </p><p>She didn't need anyone to sit with her anymore.</p><p> </p><p>So why had he offered to sit with her in the wagon and keep an eye on her?</p><p> </p><p>And why had the Inquisitor smiled like <em>that</em> when he offered?</p><p> </p><p>Alistair studied her face. She was getting better. He knew the usual phrase was 'color was returning to her cheeks.'</p><p> </p><p>But those words weren't enough.</p><p> </p><p>It was as if an amber sun was rising within her, steadily growing brighter.</p><p> </p><p>He cringed at his own sappy words. Just yesterday, he had been annoyed with her. She had <em>insisted</em> that they delay investigating the Orlesian Grey Wardens gathering in the Western Approach. He didn't know how much time they would have before the Wardens did something irreparable.</p><p> </p><p>But no one else seemed to share his concern. She told him they <em>would</em> arrive in time to stop them, and everyone else had believed her. How could she be so sure of that? He had doubted her, even if she could 'remember the future' or 'read the story.' He still doubted her, but now his doubt was quieter.</p><p> </p><p>The Calling hummed in his thoughts, growing louder each day. Like cicadas screaming in the summer, far away but getting closer.</p><p> </p><p>He wished she was awake, so he could distract himself by talking with her.</p><p> </p><p>It was a wonder that he <em>wanted</em> to talk with her. His frustration towards her had completely left him. He wasn't sure when that happened.</p><p> </p><p>Was it when the Shrieks attacked?</p><p> </p><p>Was it when she had asked him to hold her hand?</p><p> </p><p>He felt the heat in his face again.</p><p> </p><p>She had been lying there, fighting against death, and she had wanted him to hold her hand.</p><p> </p><p>Why?</p><p> </p><p>And when he had hesitated, she had said,<em>'It's okay</em>.'</p><p> </p><p>As if she expected he would hesitate.</p><p> </p><p>She had been <em>dying</em>. Why hadn't he just held her hand?</p><p> </p><p>The Inquisitor had been riding beside the wagon for a while, watching him as he watched her.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">Creepy</span>.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe she just wanted an update, but didn't want to ask?</p><p> </p><p>"She seems to be doing well, if you're wondering," he said.</p><p> </p><p>"Good. By the way, has she told you who she is, yet?"</p><p> </p><p>"Don't tell me she's an illegitimate half-heir to a throne she has no claim to. Because that's <em>my</em> thing." He smiled, but the Inquisitor just stared at him with a raised brow. "No, although Hawke mentioned she was some sort of soothsayer, one who came from outside all of Thedas? Someplace where everything that happens to us is a tale in a storybook? Hard to believe any of that, though."</p><p> </p><p>"She's not a soothsayer, but Hawke got everything else about right. There wasn't a lot of time to fill him in on everything that she's told us. I just finished getting Hawke up to speed, and I thought I'd do the same for you. It gets confusing, but it's important stuff. Think you can handle a few more unbelievable details?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sure. Anything that can keep me distracted." He welcomed anything, <em>anything,</em> that could drown out the constant hum of The Calling in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>The Inquisitor paused, considering her words carefully. "According to her, when someone reads the storybook, they essentially <em>become</em> the main character. They can somehow choose what actions the main character takes, what they look like, what they say. In <em>this</em> part of the story, <em>I'm</em> the main character. Hawke's the main character of the part before this one. Which makes the protagonist of the first part...?" She waited for him to connect the dots.</p><p> </p><p>"The Hero of Ferelden?" The Inquisitor nodded. "You're right, that is an <em>unbelievable</em> detail. You mean to tell me that she <em>was</em> Thalanil?!"</p><p> </p><p>"No. It's stranger than that: She was able to make The Hero of Ferelden a human noble from the Cousland family."</p><p> </p><p>"The noble family that Arl Howe slaughtered...No one survived except for the eldest son."</p><p> </p><p>"In <em>her</em> story, she was their second child, and she <em>survived</em>. And <em>she</em> became The Hero of Ferelden."</p><p> </p><p>"And you <em>believe</em> her? How?"</p><p> </p><p>"She's told us details that only people close to us would know. Even Leliana's spies wouldn't be able to gather as much personal information as she has. She's put her life at risk to prove herself, too."</p><p> </p><p>"You must all be absolutely mad. Either that, or this is the best long-game for a prank I've ever seen. In which case, I should congratulate her."</p><p> </p><p>The Inquisitor shook her head sadly."She really hasn't told you <em>anything</em>? Some detail that she maybe shouldn't know, but <em>does</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"Well... She knew about Tamlen, Thalanil's friend. He had disappeared just before Thalanil met Duncan, then showed up as an elf-turned-Shriek that attacked our camp." He saw the Inquisitor wince. Something about the fact that elves and Shrieks were related bothered her. He didn't blame her. Even as a Grey Warden, he had been so disturbed to learn about humans and Hurlocks that he didn't sleep for an entire week. "But that could have been something Leliana told her. Possibly." He doubted it even as he said it.</p><p> </p><p>"Fine, I'll leave the convincing up to her. But there's another detail that might interest you. Do you know why I sent <em>just</em> the two of you to get firewood?" She smiled at him, like she had when he had offered to ride in the wagon</p><p> </p><p>"I'm guessing it wasn't random happenstance? Were we both the top of our class at rival Schools of Stick Gathering?"</p><p> </p><p>The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow again. "Do you want to know, or not?"</p><p> </p><p>"Fine. Why did you send us into the woods?"</p><p> </p><p>The Inquisitor's eyes gleamed. "I wanted to give you two a private moment to talk, so she could tell you herself. She got to choose who her main character <em>falls in love with,</em> and she chose <em>you</em>. You two were <em>in love</em>. And she's <em>still</em> in love with you."</p><p> </p><p><em>What</em>?</p><p> </p><p>Another beat of silence.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, you almost got me! I don't know how you got everyone else in on this prank, but congratulations! I <em>almost</em> fell for it." He laughed nervously. Why was he nervous? "Go on, start laughing at me. 'You should have seen your face,' and all that." He waited. "Maker, you're <em>serious</em>, aren't you?!"</p><p> </p><p>"Completely serious. Ask her for proof when she wakes up," she said with a smirk. "I'm sure she's been saving something special for you."</p><p> </p><p>"For me? What do you mean she's been saving something special <em>for me</em>?!"</p><p> </p><p>But the Inquisitor was already riding towards the front of their travel party. </p><p> </p><p>He looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, She was still asleep.</p><p> </p><p>What could she say that would make him believe all that?</p><p> </p><p>If she <em>did</em> know things about him...Maker, what embarrassing story would she dredge up as proof? He had so many to choose from.</p><p> </p><p>And what The Inquisitor said about <em>them</em> being...about her <em>still</em> being...</p><p> </p><p>The Inquisitor believed her. So did Warden Blackwall. Even <em>Hawke</em>, who had learned how to sniff out each of Varric's tall tales, believed her.</p><p> </p><p>He might as well give her the chance to convince <em>him</em>, too.</p><p> </p><p>Fat chance it would actually <em>work</em>. But he'd hear her out.</p><p> </p><p>He stared at her face, willing her to wake up.</p><p> </p><p>"Come on, Salome. Wake up. Tell me what you know."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. New Plan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>If at first you don't succeed...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake up on a cot next to the campfire.</p><p> </p><p>Shit, how much time did we lose?</p><p> </p><p>I remember the Shrieks...Alistair picking me up, maybe? I must have lost a lot of blood, that slash in my stomach was <em>bad</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Then something else, firelight and talking and smells and...</p><p> </p><p>Oh god.</p><p> </p><p>Oh <em>no</em>.</p><p> </p><p>DID I ASK HIM TO HOLD MY HAND?!</p><p> </p><p>THE SICK GIRL ON A COT 'PLEASE HOLD MY HAND' ROUTINE?! <em>REALLY?!</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>FUCKING GAME DRAMA LOGIC!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I remember talking to him before passing out again. Maybe I'm making the hand-holdy part up.</p><p> </p><p>Please be making that part up.</p><p> </p><p>"Salome! You're awake!"</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall sits near me, a bowl of something (stew?) in his hand. His spoon is halfway to his mouth, the stew (or maybe soup?) dripping off of it back into the bowl.</p><p> </p><p>"Miss me?" Oh god, my throat <em>hurts</em>. It burns, it's on fire, it's all of the metaphors to say <em>holy shit it HURTS</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Had us worried for a while," he says with a smile, setting his bowl on the ground and turning to face me. "You've been asleep for a full day."</p><p> </p><p>"Did-" I stop to cough. My throat hurts so much because it's <em>dry </em>and also <em>on fire</em>. Blackwall picks up a cup from somewhere underneath my cot, lifts my head up with his hand and tips the cup towards my lips. The water hits my throat and if I had the power to build a shrine to cups of water I fucking <em>would</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Better?" He carefully lets my head back down.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. Did I slow us down?"</p><p> </p><p>"Just half a day. Not too bad, considering that you were hovering near death for all of last night."</p><p> </p><p>I cough, and Blackwall helps me drink again. I try to sit up on my own...</p><p> </p><p><em>"</em>Shit<em>,</em><em> shit</em> that hurts!"</p><p> </p><p>...and flop back on the cot, pressing on my stomach.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't push yourself. That gash cut down into your muscle. It'll take time to fully heal."</p><p> </p><p>Halea walks up to the other side of my cot. "I hope you're not undoing all the work Solas and I did to heal you last night." She's crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow, proud of her work. </p><p> </p><p>"Magic?" It's too bad I wasn't awake for that. I'd like to have seen what mega-healing magic looked like. Although having to be awake with a sliced-open stomach...Nope, nevermind.</p><p> </p><p>Solas walks up to stand just beside Halea. "We had to heal you throughout the night, to stop the wound and the poison from killing you. You were a few moments from death most of the night." They both look exhausted.</p><p> </p><p>"I..." There's so much I want to say. Thank you for saving me <em>again</em>, sorry I keep needing to be saved, also if you healed me with magic then why does my stomach still hurt?</p><p> </p><p>I settle on, "Thank you."</p><p> </p><p>Halea smiles. "You're welcome. Oh, and now that you're awake..." She looks at Solas and Blackwall. "Could you two give us a minute?"</p><p> </p><p>Solas nods, briefly touches her shoulder, and leaves for the opposite side of the campfire. Blackwall looks hesitant, but Halea stares him down until he moves to join Solas.</p><p> </p><p>Halea sits on Blackwall's stool. "Really, I'm glad to see that you're awake. You look a lot better."</p><p> </p><p>"I feel a lot better. I think. I don't remember a lot."</p><p> </p><p>"So, you don't remember Alistair riding with you in the wagon today?"</p><p> </p><p>"No. Should I? Did I do something embarrassing? Did I snore? <em>Drool</em>? Please don't say it's something worse."</p><p> </p><p>"No, you were fine! But I might have..." Halea tries to look guilty. She's terrible at it.</p><p> </p><p>"You might have what? <em>What</em>, Halea? Might have <em>what</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"...I might have told him you were in love with him."</p><p> </p><p><em>FUCK</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And she looks SO FUCKING <em>PLEASED</em> with herself!</p><p> </p><p>"<em>HALEA</em>. What have you <em>DONE?!</em>" Oh god, I'm sweating. Anger sweat? Nervous sweat? Under a blanket and near a campfire sweat? Am I shouting?</p><p> </p><p>"I just gave him a little push, to get him to talk to you." She shrugs her shoulders, <em>and of course she would! VIDEO GAME DRAMA LOGIC.</em></p><p> </p><p>"Saying 'hey she's in love with you' is <em>not </em> a LITTLE. PUSH. <em>HALEA</em>." I close my eyes and cover them with my hands (at least my arms are functional). "<em>Oh my god I can't believe you</em>. You are a <em>terrible</em> wing woman!"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know what a 'wing woman' is, but there's no going back now." She gets another gleam in her eye. "I'll set it up so that you can talk to him in private."</p><p> </p><p>"Private? <em>Private</em>. Where is 'private' in a camp?! HALEA. Don't you fucking<em> DARE </em>try to put us in a tent together!"</p><p> </p><p>She twists her mouth in a frown. She had <em>definitely</em> planned to put us in a tent together!</p><p> </p><p>"Fine. I'll figure something else out."</p><p> </p><p>"No, <em>Halea</em>! Don't figure <em>anything</em> out!"</p><p> </p><p>It's too late.</p><p> </p><p>The gleam's back. She smiles at me, then stands up and walks away without another word.</p><p> </p><p>Goddammit. <em>Goddammit</em>! <em>God FUCKING dammit, HALEA</em>.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Halea's plan isn't as horrifically awkward as I thought it was going to be.</p><p> </p><p><em>I</em> thought she was going to put together some kind of 'bath time' scene, like anime does all the time.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn't seem to have crossed her mind, thank <em>Christ</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She comes back to me and tells me she's just set up the watches for the night, and that Alistair's going to sit with me for the last shift in the night. Halea will wake me up before she switches shifts with him, then I can pretend to naturally wake up, then 'see where things go from there!'</p><p> </p><p>She's so excited.</p><p> </p><p>I'm not sure there's a 'where' for any 'things' to go, but at least her plan isn't <em>terrible</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She helps me get semi-washed up and changed before the camp settles down for the night.</p><p> </p><p>Even with her help, it's exhausting. I fall asleep as soon as I lay down on my cot.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>All too soon, Halea wakes me up. "Come on, look alive! I'm getting ready to get him!"</p><p> </p><p>'Look alive.'</p><p> </p><p>As she leaves to go wake Alistair up for his shift, I think about how I'm lucky right now. Yet again. Once again. And again. I almost died, but didn't.</p><p> </p><p>'<em>It's not the last time you'll live.'</em></p><p> </p><p>Blackwall didn't know how right he was.</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe he did.</p><p> </p><p>As a video game, when a Companion dies in battle, you can Revive them. When <em>you</em> die in battle, it's not <em>you</em>. It's your character. You can take over someone else and then Revive your character.</p><p> </p><p>(I hadn't thought about how fucking <em>creepy</em> the phrase 'you can take over someone else' was until I was <em>here</em>)</p><p> </p><p>In the video game's world, though...</p><p> </p><p>Death...<em>real</em> death...seems like a very, very <em>real</em> possibility.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'I'm unsure whether I remain as I was before, or if I am changed...'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Solas. He had been talking about whether he was still immortal, but his words make a lot more sense to me <em>now</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I know I'm not invincible. And I'm <em>definitely</em> not immortal.</p><p> </p><p>But I've been wondering how much the game's been changing me. My body, my personality, my mind...</p><p> </p><p>How much has it changed me from myself?</p><p> </p><p>Am I being integrated into the game?</p><p> </p><p>If I am...will it ever let me leave?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Action</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>...Try, try again.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Oh, you're awake? I thought you'd be asleep."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair. Right.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair, who knows I'm in love with him.</p><p> </p><p>And is coming to sit with me.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks to Halea.</p><p> </p><p>Right.</p><p> </p><p><em>FUCK</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah..."</p><p> </p><p>I'm not going to let this be awkward. Not like the woods.</p><p> </p><p>I can, and <em>will, </em>make conversation like a normal person.</p><p> </p><p>It's my move. I can do this.</p><p> </p><p>"I couldn't sleep anymore. I slept all the way here, and all last night. I'm ready to be awake."</p><p> </p><p><em>Brilliant</em> conversation. Fucking <em>scintillating</em><em>.</em></p><p> </p><p>"Thank you, by the way." He sits on the stool next to my cot.</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you, for saving me with the Shrieks." His face starts to turn red and he rubs the back of his neck nervously. "I thanked you last night, but I don't know if you remembered."</p><p> </p><p>"I remember a little."</p><p> </p><p>Deep breath. DEEP BREATH.</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair?" He looks at me. I wasn't ready for how he would look at me.</p><p> </p><p>My heart jumps. It was <em>already</em> in my fucking throat, now it's practically jumping out of my mouth and into his hand.</p><p> </p><p>"Did I ask you to...uh...did I...askyoutoholdmyhand? Last night?"</p><p> </p><p>I say it <em>way</em> too fast.</p><p> </p><p>His face turns even more red, creeping up his ears. He definitely understood me.</p><p> </p><p>This is dumb.</p><p> </p><p>This is <em>so dumb</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Why am I being so <em>dumb</em>? It's like fucking <em>middle school</em> all over again!</p><p> </p><p>He clears his throat. "Yes, actually, you did. At least, I <em>think</em> you did."</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't sound <em>embarrassed</em>. He's...flattered?</p><p> </p><p>I can work with 'flattered.'</p><p> </p><p>"It's a good thing I survived, then." He looks confused. "Otherwise you would have missed your chance. Now, you <em>might</em> get another chance to hold my hand someday. Lucky you!"</p><p> </p><p>I smile. And it's not weird. Which is such a <em>goddamn </em>relief.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I'll do my best to earn that chance." He looks down at me and smiles back.</p><p> </p><p>It's so cheesy. It's so wonderful.</p><p> </p><p>We're talking about <em>holding hands</em>, literal <em>middle school-stuff</em>, and I'm sweaty and jittery and so fucking excited.</p><p> </p><p>I've been in fictional love with this fictional man for an <em>actual</em><em> decade</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And now I'm <em>actually</em> in front of him, in the <em>actual </em>flesh, with an <em>actual</em> chance.</p><p> </p><p>(<em>Actual? Are you sure? Have you forgotten that none of this is yours?</em>)</p><p> </p><p>But that thought can fuck all the way off. Because he's looking at me with a shy smile. And my heart is jumping and melting and aching and whatever other shit gets written in books to say I'm ridiculously in love with him.</p><p> </p><p>And he already knows that I love him, so it's not like it's some huge secret, which is kind of a relief. I might even let Halea know that she didn't <em>completely </em> fuck things up for me.</p><p> </p><p>I search by feel for the cup of water somewhere underneath my cot. Alistair finds it first and hands it to me. I let him help me into a sitting position. My heart jumps even more at his touch.</p><p> </p><p>Other men <em>never</em> affect me like this. I've had dates and partners, long and short term. None of them. Not <em>one</em>. Make me feel as giddy as he does.</p><p> </p><p>Then he's staring at me.</p><p> </p><p>Somehow he went from flirty to serious in the blink of an eye.</p><p> </p><p>"Speaking of chances..." He sits back and crosses his arms, looking carefully at me. "The Inquisitor told me to ask you for proof that you came from somewhere other than Thedas? She even said you may have 'saved something special just for me.'"</p><p> </p><p>I swallow, and suddenly my throat is dry again. It was fine just a second ago. Fucking. Video. Game. Drama. Logic.</p><p> </p><p>"Let's start with Tamlen. You mentioned him, last night." He leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "How did you know about him?"</p><p> </p><p>"Are you sure you want to know?" He nods. "Did Halea tell you about the story part? And the...main character part?" He nods again, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "Good, that'll make things easier."</p><p> </p><p><em>'Easier.'</em> Sure.</p><p> </p><p>"Whenever I 'read' through the story of the Fifth Blight, it becomes <em>my</em> story of that time. I can change who the main character is and how things happen every time I 're-read' it. So, one of the times I 'read' it, I had the Hero of Ferelden be a Dalish elf."</p><p> </p><p>"Thalanil?"</p><p> </p><p>"Is that who the Hero of Ferelden is now?" Alistair nods. "It's not him, not in <em>my</em> 'story.'" He looks confused again. "In one of my 'read-throughs,' the Hero of Ferelden was a Dalish elf, a female. I think I called her Keeva. Once I had picked her, the story started with Keeva and Tamlen going to explore ruins in the forest. The same ruins where Tamlen disappears and Keeva becomes Tainted."</p><p> </p><p>He nods slowly, but doesn't say anything yet. His brows are drawn in and up, trying to follow along.</p><p> </p><p>"Then Ostagar happened. Which you were there for. Is it okay if I skip ahead a bit?" He nods again. "So, skip to that night in camp where the Shrieks attack. When they attacked, the story said one of them was different. It was because that Shriek had once been Tamlen. So <em>my</em> Hero of Ferelden, Keeva, was the one who ended his life while he was still <em>him</em>. It's...it's a powerful scene. One of the ones that sticks in my mind."</p><p> </p><p>He rubs his chin, considering. "Halea said there was another...'read-through,' where the Hero was the daughter of the Couslands? And she survived the attack by Arl Howe on the family's keep?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, that was another 'read-through.' It's the one I think of as my favorite story. Back in my world."</p><p> </p><p>"What was <em>her</em> name?"</p><p> </p><p>Oh no, <em>why, why, WHY </em>did he ask <em>that</em>?!</p><p> </p><p>"Well...her name was..." Oh <em>god,</em> just kill me <em>now</em>. "Me. It was me, her name was my name, because I wanted to pretend that <em>I</em> was in the story. Her name was Salome, she looked like me, I made all the decisions as if I was <em>there</em>. Guess I shouldn't have wished I was in here so badly..."</p><p> </p><p>He looks at me, like he's studying my face. Trying to place it. Maybe he's trying to figure out if he's 'seen' me before. "So you pretended that <em>you</em> were in the story...and fell in love with me <em>yourself</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>He smirks. God what is with the <em>smirking</em> and the <em>shrugging</em> and the <em>every other trope</em> in this game?! But it's a <em>flattered</em> smirk, it has less vanity than a regular smirk.</p><p> </p><p>It's my turn to blush <em>furiously</em> and nod.</p><p> </p><p>He sits back again, one hand on his chin and a grin on his face. "Tell me, what was the <em>exact</em> moment in the story? The part where I won your heart with my good looks and cleverness?"</p><p> </p><p>I laugh, and it feels good. This feels more normal, more like what I want.</p><p> </p><p>"Let's see...I first knew I liked you when my Hero...You know, it's going to be easier for me to just say 'me.' So, when <em>I</em> first met you in Ostagar. You were arguing with one of the mages at Ostagar, and the mage was <em>pissed</em>. He finally went away, and you turned to me and said, '<span class="u">You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together</span>.'"</p><p> </p><p>He freezes, an intense look of confusion on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Is something wrong, did I... Please tell me I didn't...</p><p> </p><p>He exhales slowly. He wasn't glitched, just shocked.</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>remember</em> saying that, to Thalanil." He shakes his head. "First Tamlen, then quoting exactly what I said when I first met the Hero of Ferelden...You might not be crazy after all."</p><p> </p><p>"I would say something snarky like 'thanks for the vote of confidence,' but..." I sigh. "I know it's freaky and impossible and weird, and whatever other words go along with that."</p><p> </p><p>He sits up straighter, smiling tightly. "At least you fell in love with me in Ostagar, <em>before</em> finding out I was a bastard half-prince."</p><p> </p><p>"That's not actually when I fell in love with you. It was where you <em>charmed</em> me, but...falling in <em>love</em> with you was after we left Lothering."</p><p> </p><p>"It took you <em>that long</em> to fall for me? Me, a <em>known</em> romancer and wooer of women? On behalf of my younger self, I'm hurt. Then again, what fun would it have been if you were able to <span class="u">land me that easily</span>! I was <span class="u">quite the prize, after all</span>. Still am." He grins again, and my heart melts <em>again</em>. "Well, go on! Don't keep me in suspense. When did you finally <em>fall in love </em>with me?"</p><p> </p><p>I savored that smile for a moment. I knew it was about to disappear again.</p><p> </p><p>"I have to warn you, Alistair. And I mean this seriously, not a cute, flirty 'warning,' but <em>real</em>. I fell in love with you in <em>my</em> story with <em>me</em>, as a female human noble, based on a very specific scene that probably <em>didn't</em> happen to you <em>here</em> with Thalanil, the male Dalish elf. Hearing what happened...it could get <em>weird</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Salome -" My name from his lips. More giddiness and melting and all that romantic shit. "-It's already <em>weird</em>. I can handle 'weird.' Besides, the sooner you get <span class="u">past this awkward, embarrassing part</span>, the sooner I get to see if there are any <span class="u">steamy bits</span> I missed out!" Another grin from him, another inward swoon from me.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay... On your way through Lothering, did you see a flower? A rose, growing out of a bunch of rubble?"</p><p> </p><p>He nods.</p><p> </p><p>"Did you think something like, '<span class="u">How can something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness</span>?'"</p><p> </p><p>His eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in confusion. He nods again.</p><p> </p><p>"Did you actually pick it? To save it from getting destroyed by Darkspawn?"</p><p> </p><p>A pause. Then a nod.</p><p> </p><p>(He still picked the flower even though the Hero of Ferelden wasn't a woman he could romance! He did it because <em>he</em> wanted to, for <em>himself</em>! That's so fucking <em>cute</em>!)</p><p> </p><p>"In my story, you gave the rose to me. You told me that you saw the rose and wanted to give it to me, because it reminded you of me. I fell in love with you when you told me that I was like that rose: '<span class="u">What </span><span class="u">a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this darkness</span>.'"</p><p> </p><p>My heart and face heat up, repeating the quote that meant so much to me that I wanted it tattooed on my body.</p><p> </p><p>And then.</p><p> </p><p>We're both quiet.</p><p> </p><p>For a long time.</p><p> </p><p>A <em>very</em> long time.</p><p> </p><p>He shifts, totally uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>My heart cools off, but my face stays hot. Only now it's from embarrassment.</p><p> </p><p>I fucked up. Either I fucked up <em>what</em> I was telling him, or I fucked up by telling him in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>He hasn't run yet.</p><p> </p><p>That's a good sign, right?</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he's less skittish now than he was ten years ago.</p><p> </p><p>Unless they didn't include 'emotional constitution' in his bullshit 'Grittiness Upgrade.'</p><p> </p><p>I rub at the side of my face.</p><p> </p><p>"That's when I fell in love with you. Inside, and outside, the story." </p><p> </p><p>I've ripped open my heart and shown it to a guy I fell in love with <em>ten years ago</em> - both inside <em>and</em> outside the game - when he was just some pixels on a screen, words on a script, electronic code, and voice recording. Completely fictional, completely manufactured, and <em>I had ACTUALLY fallen for him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I had kind of hoped that meeting him 'in the flesh' would make everything magically click (fireworks, immediately jumping on each other for some intense romantic passion, deep embraces and longing looks, whatever else happened in movies and shit).</p><p> </p><p>But I had assumed that based on him automatically falling in love with me.</p><p> </p><p>And I</p><p> </p><p>had been</p><p> </p><p>so</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>STUPID</em>
</p><p> </p><p>to think that would happen.</p><p> </p><p>He stands up without another word and walks away towards his bedroll.</p><p> </p><p>The sky's light pink, which means everyone will be up soon.</p><p> </p><p>He'll get some more sleep.</p><p> </p><p>I'll wallow in awkwardness and heartbreak, and then I'll be fine.</p><p> </p><p>I'll be fine.</p><p> </p><p>It's fine.</p><p> </p><p>I lie down and decide to try to get some sleep myself.</p><p> </p><p>I close my eyes.</p><p> </p><p>I don't cry.</p><p> </p><p>Which is kind of weird, given that I'm fucking emotionally <em>devastated</em>.</p><p> </p><p>But maybe I'm too tired for it.</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe, deep down, I always knew this would be the result.</p><p> </p><p>"He's coming back."</p><p> </p><p>Cole.</p><p> </p><p>Halea was my wing woman. Guess Cole might as well be my wing man. It'll probably get the same <em>fan-fucking-tastic</em> results.</p><p> </p><p>"Pretend to sleep!"</p><p> </p><p>Cole sounds excited. He really is a sweet kid/ghost/spirit/being. Going along with it will make him happy.</p><p> </p><p>Plus I'm already pretending to sleep, so no more effort is needed on my part.</p><p> </p><p>I hear Alistair's footsteps come my way.</p><p> </p><p>He comes close enough that I catch his scent. His Alistair-y scent. The kind that you feel totally stupid for describing, but if you could bottle it and sell it, you'd still keep every bottle for yourself.</p><p> </p><p>He's standing <em>right there.</em></p><p> </p><p>I hear him moving. I can almost feel him reaching over me.</p><p> </p><p>I involuntarily flinch when I feel the fabric next to my face move slightly.</p><p> </p><p>I hear him stand up quickly. His footsteps fade.</p><p> </p><p>"Now!"</p><p> </p><p>Cole's so <em>excited</em> and even though I don't know <em>what</em> he's excited about, I'm glad he is.</p><p> </p><p>I open my eyes.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Everyone who has ever played <em>Dragon Age: Origins</em> and romanced this warm, immature, emotional, <em>fictional</em> man has imagined Alistair's Rose.</p><p> </p><p>In most of our minds (and in the best <em>DA:O</em> fan art), Alistair's Rose is a classic, red rose, big and lush and vibrant.</p><p> </p><p>But in reality.</p><p> </p><p>(In the <em>game's</em> reality)</p><p> </p><p>Alistair's Rose is about the size of my thumb.</p><p> </p><p>With five petals, white in the center, changing to blush pink at the tips.</p><p> </p><p>A dot of dusty yellow in the center.</p><p> </p><p>A thin, vine-like stalk with groups of small green leaves.</p><p> </p><p>It was so small, it'd be easy to lose track of.</p><p> </p><p>But he had picked it and kept it.</p><p> </p><p>For ten years.</p><p> </p><p>It had been flattened and dried.</p><p> </p><p>Because he had pressed it.</p><p> </p><p>Between the pages of some book that he had kept with him for ten years.</p><p> </p><p>Keeping it safe.</p><p> </p><p>A small wild rose.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair's Rose.</p><p> </p><p>That he just left on my pillow. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Imagery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Did that mean something? Wait, did <em>that</em> mean something?!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The not-fun tension that had been between Alistair and I is gone, which is a relief for <em>everyone</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, there's a flirty-fun tension, which is only fun for the two of <em>us</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It starts when I bring Alistair's Rose back to him. I hold it in my palm carefully, afraid it's going to disintegrate at any second.</p><p> </p><p>"So, you <em>did</em> keep it."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes." He looks embarrassed (more swooning in my heart, oh god). "It's a silly, sentimental thing. <span class="u">I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't</span>. <span class="u">I've had it ever since</span> Lothering. <span class="u">I thought I might</span>...eventually...<span class="u">give it</span>to...someone. Special. <span class="u">Just a stupid impulse</span>."</p><p> </p><p><em>YES</em>. <em>HELL FUCKING YES</em>.</p><p> </p><p>For once, I'm grateful that the Video Game Drama Logic is working in my favor. And that it's letting things move along between us faster than in the real world. And that it's somehow clearer than literally any of my other relationships I've had (which are all getting re-labeled 'shitty relationships' now).</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it's too soon to label this a 'relationship.' But it could be, if that's what <em>he</em> wants. (I know I do.)</p><p> </p><p>Or...what if this is what the <em>game</em> wants? If whatever's going on between Alistair and I is being manufactured by the game, does that make it real? Or not?</p><p> </p><p>Does that even matter to me anymore?</p><p> </p><p>Maybe the game is just giving me a...head start, on <em>something</em> between us.</p><p> </p><p>"Was putting it on my pillow a <span class="u">stupid impulse</span>?"</p><p> </p><p>Come on, game. <em>Let me fucking have this!</em></p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I dunno...was it the wrong one?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>It's like I'm in the scene, only ten years later, and tailored to <em>me</em>. How do I rip my heart out and just hand it to him?</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">No, it wasn't</span>. I thought it was really, really sweet."</p><p> </p><p>Wait...did <em>I </em>just repeat video game dialogue? Or was that just a regular thing to say? It felt...weird to say it.</p><p> </p><p>He dramatically clutches at his chest. "'Sweet?' '<em>Sweet?</em>' <span class="u">Oh, <em>just</em> what I was aiming for. Owww, you could just stab me in the face first if you say something like that</span>, you know!"</p><p> </p><p>"You <em>know</em> what I meant!"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I'm not sure I do,</span> but I'd be honored to hear your explanation." He smirks, <em>shit</em> why does smirking work on me so well here?! It's fucking annoying in my world. Here, it's swoon-worthy. Or maybe it's swoon-worthy because it's Alistair.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Now you're making fun of me</span>!"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Make fun of <em>you</em>, dear lady? Perish the thought!</span>" He laughs and bumps me with his elbow.</p><p> </p><p>I wonder if he's enjoying feeling young - whatever the fuck that means because we're both still young just not <em>young-</em>young - as much as I am. </p><p> </p><p>I do it back, just a <em>little</em> bit harder. "But, seriously, I..."</p><p> </p><p>Using the word 'love' is too risky, right? Gotta be. If it isn't, I'm not going to take that chance.</p><p> </p><p>"...love it." <em>WHAT?!</em> NO what the FUCK?! </p><p> </p><p>Just brush right past it, it's fine! "But I know it means a lot to you, so, um, did you want it...back?"</p><p> </p><p>And he smiles, maybe because I said 'love' (stupid stupid <em>STUPID</em>) or because he definitely knows what I'm actually asking (Video Game Drama Logic). </p><p> </p><p>"Why don't you keep it safe for me?"</p><p> </p><p>"I think I can do that." I reach into my leather pack and take out a small journal. Gotta love Deus Ex Machina items. "<span class="u">Thank you, Alistair</span>."</p><p> </p><p>More dialogue. From <em>me</em>. Maybe.</p><p> </p><p>But that's just going to get shoved to the back of my mind, I'm too excited about <em>now</em>. About us walking, closer together, because we're...<em>something</em>. I think.</p><p> </p><p>I sneak a glance, and he's definitely smiling. And I'm definitely smiling. And he definitely sneaks a glance so he sees that. And despite the fact that we're supposed to be Actual Adults who Probably Shouldn't Act Like That (although <em>why</em> doesn't make any sense, maybe that's just a weird hangup from my world), we are giddy and ridiculous and flirty and happy.</p><p> </p><p>"You know..." He looks at me from the corner of his eye. "You never told me if there were any <span class="u">steamy bits</span> in your story."</p><p> </p><p>Oh god. Oh <em>no</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Talking about 'how we met' when 'we' was just <em>me</em> and not actually <em>him</em> was already confusing enough.</p><p> </p><p>What's it going to be like to tell him 'how we definitely spent the night having sex out in the open next to the campfire the night before the Landsmeet because you wanted it to be significant and/or were really nervous' when <em>I</em> was the only one who experienced it?!</p><p> </p><p>No fucking way. Not right now. Not out in the open on the road and yes I know he's flirting with me but then all those images of changing positions and the sound of awkward soaring vocals pops into my head and-</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Yes. Distraction. Distraction works every time. Totally.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Not unless they were asking me for a favor</span>, or trying to distract me." He arches an eyebrow. "<span class="u">Why? Is this your way of telling me <em>you</em> think I'm handsome?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Distraction success!</p><p> </p><p>"So what <span class="u">if it is? What then?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Oh, nothing much. I just get to grin a bit and look foolish for a while.</span>" And he <em>does</em>. "<span class="u">Is this the part where I get to say the same?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Not unless you don't think so</span>..."</p><p> </p><p>Falling into this dialogue feels weird because it feels <em>natural</em>. And it shouldn't. I wouldn't ever say it <em>that</em> awkwardly. Is it so hard to say 'Only if you think I am,' instead of whatever clusterfuck sentence just came out of my mouth? But even knowing it's a weird sentence, and it's weird that I'm saying it, the weird <em>feeling</em> is going away. It's becoming <em>natural</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And it brings me back to the question - how much of me is still <em>me</em>?</p><p> </p><p>And then he's talking again and I shove it back to the back of my mind.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Oh, I think so. I'll just spring it on you when it's a surprise</span>."</p><p> </p><p>We're interrupted by Hawke, shouting from behind us.</p><p> </p><p>"For the <em>love</em> of <span class="u">Andraste's knickerweasels</span>, just put up a tent and FUCK already!"</p><p> </p><p>I turn around and see a very pleased Hawke and Halea. I am very <em>unpleased</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>FUCK OFF, HAWKE!</em>" I flip him off, which just makes him laugh.</p><p> </p><p>He has the <em>fucking nerve</em> to shrug his shoulders. "I don't think <em>I'm</em> the one you want to fuck off with!"</p><p> </p><p>I turn back around and cover my bright, bright, <em>bright</em> red face. "Oh my god...<em>Oh my god</em>..."</p><p> </p><p>I glance at Alistair, and he's bright red, too. Great. We're <em>both</em> feeling awkward about this.</p><p> </p><p>I'm not this shy about sex in my world.</p><p> </p><p>Why is it so awkward <em>here</em>?</p><p> </p><p>(Is it the game?)</p><p> </p><p>Alistair clears his throat. "<span class="u">I'll be</span> up at the front, <span class="u">until the blushing stops. Just to be, uh, safe.</span> Must protect others from random Darkspawn attacks, part of my Grey Warden duties, etcetera. <span class="u">You know how it is.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>He quickly moves towards the front of the traveling party.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fucking fantastic.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I slow down until I'm walking next to Hawke.</p><p> </p><p>"So, is he off to go get the tent <em>now</em>, or is he running awa-<em>OW</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>I jab him in the ribs with my elbow.</p><p> </p><p>"You're such an <em>ass</em>, Hawke!"</p><p> </p><p>He chuckles and rubs his side.</p><p> </p><p>Great.</p><p> </p><p>Just <em>great</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Revelation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's what they've been waiting for.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I take a deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>It's time.</p><p> </p><p>Halea stands on one side of me. Cole stands on the other.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone else is already in the War Room.</p><p> </p><p>Cole takes my hand.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>We'd finally, <em>finally</em> returned to Skyhold this morning. As soon as we saw the top of the battlement, Halea turned to me and said that we were getting this done <em>today</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"We can't give Corypheus any more time to corrupt the Grey Wardens." She had asked me to walk with her, at the back of our group. "I know <em>you're</em> sure that they'll wait until they get there, but <em>I'm not</em>. I trust you, but I can't keep telling people not to worry."</p><p> </p><p>In the few moments I had in my room before the War Room, I had asked Cole if he knew anything about the spider demon, if he could see it when I imagined it.</p><p> </p><p>I had taken his hands and imagined what I remembered of that fight. When the glowing woman chases it away the first time. When it suddenly appears again. When Halea had to choose who to leave behind. Hawke slashing off one of its fangs. Alistair disappearing underneath its body as we ran.</p><p> </p><p>He had ripped his hands out of mine. He fell back, landing on the ground, then crawled away from me until the wall of my room stopped him. He had gasped and gasped, like he couldn't get enough air in his lungs. He skin became clammy, and he shook all over.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Cole!</em> Cole, are you okay?!"</p><p> </p><p>He had shaken his head violently, and mumbled something I didn't quite catch, over and over again.</p><p> </p><p>When I stepped towards him, he started crying.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I sat next to him, back up against one of the stone walls of my room, and held him. He had done so much for me, and I had terrorized him.</p><p> </p><p>"Cole, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."</p><p> </p><p>We spent a long time sitting there. I thought of cats purring, and coffee, and rain on concrete. Lots of small things I missed.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually he stopped shaking. I didn't ask him what he saw, and I didn't ask him to try again. He had done more than enough.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall had been waiting for me in the garden when I came out. He told me he wouldn't be in the War Room. "Don't fancy the idea of watching you die, Salome. I wish you'd reconsider."</p><p> </p><p>"I have to. I can't fix it alone. If I could, then I'd just walk in like a badass, defeat the villain, save the day, get the guy, and make sweet, passionate love to him."</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head. "Why do you say the things you say?"</p><p> </p><p>I laughed at Blackwall's frustrated embarrassment. I asked him to hold onto my journal with Alistair's Rose in it. </p><p> </p><p>He promised to give Alistair my journal if I didn't come out of the War Room.</p><p> </p><p>"Can I ask one thing?" I nodded. "<span class="u">If you know what I am, what I'd done, why didn't you tell the others?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"You eventually do the right thing. You decide to take responsibility for your past. You're a different person <em>now</em> than you were then. You're willing to take responsibility - and the punishment that comes with it - and that's something a lot of people don't ever figure out how to do."</p><p> </p><p>He nodded slowly, then looked at the leather journal in his hands. "I hope to return this to you in a few hours."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"What if they don't believe me, Halea? What if <em>you</em> don't believe me?"</p><p> </p><p>"No more stalling, Salome. It's time."</p><p> </p><p>It's time.</p><p> </p><p>We push open the doors and walk in.</p><p> </p><p>I gently nudge Cole in Solas' direction. If he kept holding my hand while I explained things, he'd get hurt again. Either because he'd see the spider demon in my mind again.</p><p> </p><p>Or because if I glitched, he could get glitched, too.</p><p> </p><p>"Finally!" Cullen, leaning over the map spread out over the War Table, stands up and crosses his arms. "You've kept all of us waiting a very long time for this."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair and Hawke lean against a table on the side of the room. Alistair's eyes meet mine, and his smile is big and warm. Hawke gives me a nod and elbows Alistair, very obviously teasing him about smiling at me.</p><p> </p><p>These are the two lives I'm trying to save.</p><p> </p><p>And maybe I won't have to give my own to do it.</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra paces near the War Table. Josephine taps her clipboard nervously. Leliana stares at me, openly suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>Cole, Solas, Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana, Alistair, and Hawke. And me.</p><p> </p><p>"Where's everyone else?" My question's harmless.</p><p> </p><p>But it makes Cassandra slam her hands on the War Table. "Do <em>not</em> put this off any longer! We are<em> THROUGH </em>waiting! <em>Tell us</em> what you have to tell us. <em>NOW</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Cassandra!" Josephine shakes her head sternly. "There's no need to shout!"</p><p> </p><p>"She has insisted <em>for weeks</em> that she knows something important, and has refused to tell us until <em>now</em>! I don't know about all of <em>you</em>, but I think we have waited <em>far too long</em>. We will <em>not</em> be delayed any longer."</p><p> </p><p>"Cassandra's right." Everyone in the room turns to me. "It's time."</p><p> </p><p>It's time.</p><p> </p><p>Solas casts a barrier around me. "It may not be helpful, but it doesn't hurt to take some precautions." I don't hear his usual confidence in his words.</p><p> </p><p>It's like everyone's holding their breath.</p><p> </p><p>"I have to say it quickly, and simply. And <em>no interruptions</em>. If I don't......if I'm <em>okay</em>, I'll tell you more. Promise."</p><p> </p><p>"'Wait...'if?' <em>'If?!'</em> What is she talking about? Why 'if?'" There's a growing panic and confusion in Alistair's voice.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke moves to stand next to the War Table. "I second that. What's this all about?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hawke. Alistair." I wait until they look at me. "In the story, one of you dies. And there's no way to stop it. Not in the story I 'read.' Over and over and over, without fail, this part always comes down to one of you dying. I want to stop that from happening. But...I don't know if telling you two how one of you might die will kill me."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair walks closer to the barrier. <em>"</em>There's a chance doing this will <em>KILL</em> you?! No, no way. Not happening. Get out of that barrier, let's talk about this, I'm sure we can come up with something else!"</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair, <em>please</em>."</p><p> </p><p>He stares at me through the barrier. Confusion, panic, and despair, all wrapped up in one look.</p><p> </p><p>I close my eyes and breathe.</p><p> </p><p>I let myself feel the energy from the barrier around me. The air inside it is cool and bright, like a windless winter day.</p><p> </p><p>I tell myself I'm safe, it's going to be okay.</p><p> </p><p>I wait until everyone is silent.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It's time.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"When you go to the Western Approach, to the fortress, you fall through a rift and end up in The Fade. Physically."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>So far, so good. A little queasy, but that could be nerves.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"You meet a spirit who looks like a glowing woman, who helps guide you to the rift that the Wardens are creating."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Wait.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Something's...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A sharp pain in my stomach, so sudden and intense that I double over, pressing my hands against the spot. The pain doesn't ease.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Someone says my name. I don't know who, but I hold a hand up. I have to keep going.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"You have to fight...so many things. So many demons...and spirits."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The world around me starts to dim. I can feel something leaking from my nose and eyes.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A dark liquid.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It's thick like honey. It smells like rotting meat.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"There's a big fight..."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The words are hard to say.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The liquid is dripping out of my mouth.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I can feel it</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>crawl</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>up my throat and over my tongue.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"...so many demons..."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>My wound opens up again. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Even more dark liquid.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It pools around my feet.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Inching up  to my ankles.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I feel</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>so</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>weak</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>so</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>alone.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"...glowing.....fights.....powerful...one..."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It fills my ears.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I cannot hear.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I cannot see.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>All I feel is the pain</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Of the dark liquid</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>c r a w l I n g</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>in my veins</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>in my muscles</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>in my organs</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>c r a w l i n g</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>My throat spasms.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"...you...think...you...win..."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The liquid</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>is slimy</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>and wriggles</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>and crawls</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>out of my mouth</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>out of my ears</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>eyes</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>nose</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>out in a waterfall from my wound.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I can feel it around me.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Up to my waist.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>the </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>c r a w l i n g</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>brush against my skin in the water</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>taking</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>bites.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"..............then.............its.......................there............................."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>each word is agony</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>each word is ten </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>twenty</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>a thousand</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>c r a w l i n g</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>out of my throat</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>through my nostrils</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>inside my spine</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"................................................................the................................................................"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What was it called</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>what was it</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>he was so scared</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>he knew what it was</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>its name</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>its been there</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>so long</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>so lonely</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>growing</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>so powerful</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>and</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>angry</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>what</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>was</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>it</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>called?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The liquid</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>lifts me</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>off my feet</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>the crawling</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>biting</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>worse</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>up to my chin</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>reaching </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>fingers</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>around</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>my face</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>ready</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>to </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>take</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>. . . N I G H T M A R E . . .</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. The Villain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Or antagonist?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Solas~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>N i g h t m a r e ...</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The word escapes her lips before the liquid bubbles over them.</p><p> </p><p>He had seen Nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>They used to be called Comfort.</p><p> </p><p>He had walked with them in The Fade.</p><p> </p><p>They took <em>away</em> fear from others.</p><p> </p><p>To ease their suffering.</p><p> </p><p>Until Comfort grew <em>hungry</em> for the fear.</p><p> </p><p>Then Comfort became Nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>But the last he saw of them, they hadn't been a threat to those <em>outside</em> of The Fade.</p><p> </p><p>What happened to them, to cause them to become so dangerous?</p><p> </p><p><em>Corypheus</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The fear Corypheus and his forces have caused must have fed Nightmare and given them immense power.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, Corypheus still needs the Grey Wardens to release Nightmare from The Fade?</p><p> </p><p>Someone yelled.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>SOLAS! ARE YOU LISTENING?!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Halea?</p><p> </p><p>"<em>DROP THE BARRIER! NOW!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>He stared at the barrier. Its bright light surrounded a thick darkness.</p><p> </p><p>A void.</p><p> </p><p>Where Salome was trapped.</p><p> </p><p>Something smashed against the barrier.</p><p> </p><p>Cullen had taken his sword and swung it at the magical energy surrounding the darkness.</p><p> </p><p>His blade ricocheted off, the protective energy lashing at him and throwing him backwards into the War Table.</p><p> </p><p>He's the only one who carries a sword with him in the War Room.</p><p> </p><p>Solas thought his insistence on wearing it a foolish vanity. If it had broken the barrier, he would have thought it prudence.</p><p> </p><p>It does not break the barrier. So, it is useless.</p><p> </p><p>The Grey Warden Alistair began slamming his fists on the barrier. The barrier's energy burned his hands with each strike.</p><p> </p><p>He called her name.</p><p> </p><p>His hands began bleeding, but he did not stop. The barrier burned away the blood his fists left behind.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>SOLAS!"</em></p><p> </p><p>Halea shook my shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>Right.</p><p> </p><p>He said the incantation to dismiss the barrier. Energy flared in his stave, and his hands glowed with magic.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing?</p><p> </p><p>He tried again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Nothing!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"I...I cannot dispel it..."</p><p> </p><p>He had never seen or experienced anything like this.</p><p> </p><p>It intrigued him.</p><p> </p><p>It frightened him.</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra held a fist to her heart. She closed her eyes and moved her lips, a prayer he could not hear. Then she flung out her hand.</p><p> </p><p>A wave of nullifying energy moved through the room.</p><p> </p><p>But the barrier endured.</p><p> </p><p>"Cassandra, again! Halea, with me!"</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra held her fist to her heart.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair and Cullen did the same, apparently sharing a similar ability to Cassandra. Perhaps from their time as Templars.</p><p> </p><p>He nodded to Halea. She readied her staff. They began their incantations.</p><p> </p><p>Between all of them, surely,</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>surely,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>the nullifying energies would be enough to overcome the barrier's unexpected endurance.</p><p> </p><p>All five of them unleash the energy they've summoned, attempting to neutralize the barrier.</p><p> </p><p>The combined force rushed through the room, pushing everyone back.</p><p> </p><p>And</p><p> </p><p><em>nothing</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The barrier persisted, undamaged and unchanged. Alistair returned to slamming his fists on the barrier’s surface, the only movement as they stood in shock.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't understand...This is impossible. The barrier was not this strong when I cast it. It was only strong enough to defend against forces for a few moments, if we needed to intercede."</p><p> </p><p>"Nothing is working!" Cassandra stood, angry and afraid, in front of the barrier.</p><p> </p><p>"Should we get Vivienne and Dorian? Try again?" Josephine attempted to keep her voice calm.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll get them." Leliana dated out of the room, giving the barrier a wide berth.</p><p> </p><p>He looked at those left. "Yes, we'll try again. But we should be prepared for a similar result."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair slowly stopped hitting the barrier, his hands coming to rest on it. The energy still sparked and burned, retaliating against his touch.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke pulled him back. "Get it together, man," he said quietly. "We've got to keep our heads clear, figure out how to get her out of there."</p><p> </p><p>Leliana returned with Vivienne and Dorian, twin looks of horror appearing on their faces when they saw the darkness-filled barrier.</p><p> </p><p>"What have you <em>done</em>..." Vivienne's horror turned to anger colder than her magic. "What on <em>earth</em> have you done?!"</p><p> </p><p>"Perhaps we can go over that later? <em>After</em> freeing her from whatever the <em>hell</em> is in there?" Dorian readied his stave, looking at the others. "Well?"</p><p> </p><p>Vivienne nodded, doing the same.</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra was weary. "I can only do this once more until I need to rest."</p><p> </p><p>"If the barrier doesn't dispel after this, it won't matter how many more times we try it." The others looked to him with fear in their eyes, but it was the truth. "Let us hope this works. Otherwise we will have to look for alternative methods."</p><p> </p><p>They readied again. Cassandra, Alistair, and Cullen spread amongst the rest of them.</p><p> </p><p>They circled the barrier, beginning their incantations, then unleashed.</p><p> </p><p>The force from the collision of the nullifying energies threw all of them to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>All he could hear was a ringing sound, most likely caused by the shockwave from the energies' collision.</p><p> </p><p>And when he looked up.</p><p> </p><p>It was still there.</p><p> </p><p>And Salome</p><p> </p><p>was still trapped.</p><p> </p><p>Halea pushed herself up to her knees, disbelief and frustration in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"Fine," she said, panting to catch the breath that the shockwave forced out of her lungs.</p><p> </p><p>She stood and moved directly in front of the barrier.</p><p> </p><p>And readied her left hand.</p><p> </p><p>The Anchor.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>HALEA-"</em></p><p> </p><p>The barrier could take the Anchor's power and become stronger.</p><p> </p><p>The barrier could be immune to the Anchor's power and reflect it back on them.</p><p> </p><p>The barrier could pull on the Anchor's power and draw in Halea.</p><p> </p><p>"-<em>NO!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>But she had already placed her hand on the barrier.</p><p> </p><p>Her hand glowed</p><p> </p><p>and she screamed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Auctor Ex Verbo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What lies not behind, but beyond?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I feel the dark liquid crawl out of my eyes and mouth, making its way down my body. I feel all of it crawling off of me. Down. Away.</p><p> </p><p>And then it's gone, and I'm alone.</p><p> </p><p>I still can't see anything. It doesn't matter that whatever that was is gone.</p><p> </p><p>The world around me is still so dark.</p><p> </p><p>I think I'm floating, but I don't feel anything around me.</p><p> </p><p>I tap my thumb against each finger. I flex my hands and feet. I can still feel <em>me</em>, but I can't feel anything else.</p><p> </p><p>Like my <em>clothes</em>?!</p><p> </p><p>Did that dark liquid...eat through my clothes?!</p><p> </p><p><em>EW! </em>Why?! <em>Gross</em> and <em>WHY</em>?!</p><p> </p><p><em><strike>"Ah. Yes, well. It helps create a sense of vulnerability,"</strike></em> a voice says.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Fuck!</em>" I'm glad I can hear my own voice, but there's no echo. It seems like the darkness around me swallows the sound. "Who's there?! Who <em>the fuck</em> are you?!"</p><p> </p><p>I don't see anyone. Or anything.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strike>"Ah. Yes, well. My apologies."</strike> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The voice is completely neutral. Not high or low, not loud or quiet, ageless, genderless, emotionless. But it's not mechanical, like a robot or a recording. There's a <em>thing</em> behind that voice.</p><p> </p><p>The darkness grows lighter, more purple-gray than straight up <em>void</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Except for one spot. One spot stays almost pitch-black. Yet somehow, the purple-gray around me hits some parts of the pitch-black spot, and I can see...</p><p> </p><p>What <em>is</em> that?</p><p> </p><p>Gigantic tendrils wrap around the center, with big tendrils branching off of them, and smaller tendrils branching off of <em>those</em>, all the way down to tendrils that are as thin as threads. The tendrils squirm and twist around and around, always moving but the form staying the same.</p><p> </p><p>The ball of dark tendrils floats up and down slightly. Or <em>I'm</em> floating up and down slightly. Or both of us?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strike>"Ah. Yes, well. I didn't want to assume a form that would be too convenient, but it still had to be comprehensible to you. I am The Author. Or, I am an iteration of The Author."</strike> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Bull<em>shit</em>. This trope?! <em>THIS </em>one?! This trope that says <em>you're</em> behind my transportation into <em>Dragon Age</em> for, lemme guess, <em>entertainment?!</em>" I cross my arms angrily, but I'm surprised when I feel my skin brush against my exposed tits. I guess I thought I would have been smooth, more like a barbie-doll-Magical-Girl-Transformation-unitard deal. But, nope, I'm <em>actually</em> naked.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strike>"Ah. Yes, well. Again, the nakedness is to create vulnerability. But that doesn't seem to be working in your case. As for my being The Author. Some tropes exist for a reason. Some patterns happen with high frequency for no other reason than they simply do. But, please. Let me welcome you to Betwixt."</strike> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I look around. There's only purple-gray darkness and the dark tendrils.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay...where's 'Betwixt?' Like, is there <em>land</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strike>"Ah. Yes, well. No. Betwixt is Beyond."</strike> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>50-50 chance that 'Betwixt' and 'Beyond' are either surrealist names, or this Author is just trying to be vague so they don't have to actually explain anything. But for now, I'll play along.</p><p> </p><p>"Beyond <em>what</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strike>"Ah. Yes, well. It's Beyond all. Betwixt is Beyond everything. Clever analysis of my place name vocabulary choices, by the way, but I'll never give away which it is. And allow me to offer my apologies once again. I believe your transportation here was quite difficult on you. The ink and words were uncomfortable for you, yes?"</strike> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Uncomfortable? <em>PAINFUL</em>. <em>HORRIBLE. TERRI-FUCKING-FYING.</em> I fucking <em>drowned </em>in goop that smelled like <em>rotten meat</em>, and whatever those <em>leeches</em> were-"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strike>"Ah. Yes, well. Words. As I said."</strike> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>If I could find The Author's eyes, I'd glare into them. Instead I glare at the center of the tendrils. "-Fine, <em>words</em>, they fucking crawled <em>like leeches</em> <em>OUT OF MY FUCKING BODY</em> and then they <em>bit</em> me! 'Uncomfortable' does not even begin to cover the <em>shit</em> I went through!"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strike>"Ah. Yes, well. Your displeasure is noted. Currently you seem uneasy and confused. I assume it's because Betwixt is a bit less defined than you're comfortable with. Perhaps something more familiar will help?"</strike> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The tendrils suddenly shoot out from The Author and grab me. I try to struggle, but the sheer number of tendrils overwhelms any movements I make.</p><p> </p><p>The tendrils pull me into the center of its shape so fast I don't have any time to react.</p><p> </p><p>And then it's The Fade. And The Author floats in front of me, its dark tendrils squirming and contracting and reaching.</p><p> </p><p>And I'm not naked anymore, thank <em>Christ</em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strike>"Ah. Yes, well. Is this better? Now, please note. This is not The Fade that is described in the worlds you've been in. This is merely a metaphor. I contemplated assuming the form of The Betrayer character, but when I have assumed such concrete forms in the past it has not gone well. Too much 'wriggling,' if you will."</strike> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>As much as I don't want to admit it, I <em>do</em> feel better being in The Fade. The Not-Fade. But I don't feel any better about The Author's intentions.</p><p> </p><p>"What do you want from me? Why am I here?"</p><p> </p><p>The Author floats up and down. <em><strike>"Ah. Yes, well. I needed someplace to put you during the scene. And I'll admit, every once in a millennium, I enjoy speaking with the characters I work with. All of you are so interesting, with your emotions, and your reactions, and your free will. Very interesting. It has given me many, many eons of entertainment."</strike></em></p><p> </p><p>"So it's the god-complex overarching story then? You push us around, manipulate us, watch what happens, but have ultimate control and decision making?"</p><p> </p><p><strike><em>"Ah. Yes, well. I'd say it's on a grander, more intricate scale. Like you playing your little game and influencing its</em> <em>world, only I am able to see and influence everything. Every piece and part and variable and so on. I get to have a 'hand,' if you will, in everything."</em></strike> The Author's floating takes on a playful little bounce.</p><p> </p><p>It's so fucking <em>proud</em> of itself.</p><p> </p><p>"When do I get to go back?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strike>"Ah. Yes, well. In another 'minute,' if you will, or so. The fun of all of you having free will is it adds a beautiful bit of chaos. Random chance that keeps me on my 'toes,' if you will. It helps inspire me. So we must wait to see what the other characters do without my direct guidance. Don't worry, I plan for you to be saved. It's how that's the fun part. If they try something particularly interesting, and if it will make the scene more dramatic, I'll nudge things that way."</strike> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It floats up and down slowly. <em><strike>"Ah. Yes, well. Let's see...Seems that they're combining their magic in one final push, trying to nullify the barrier. Encouraging, but sadly, not inspired. I'll see what they do after this fails."</strike></em></p><p> </p><p>"And this - messing with people, meeting them, <em>fucking mocking them</em> - has <em>never</em> gone wrong for you? <em>Ever</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>The Author does a small circle, almost merry in its movements. <em><strike>"Ah! Yes, well! Many have tried to attack, or reason, or bargain, and it's always so refreshing! I try not to meet with characters too often, otherwise predictable patterns will start emerging. I wondered what you would do. I wanted to see how you would react to all thi-"</strike></em></p><p> </p><p>It stops. Suddenly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>. . . I N T E R E S T I N G . . .</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>The Author's voice reverberates around The Not-Fade, shaking it.</p><p> </p><p>It grows. Fast. <em>Scary </em>fast. I watch it grow to the size of the fucking Coliseum in under a second.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>. . . V E R Y . . . I N T E R E S T I N G . . . I N D E E D . . .</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>"<em>WHAT?! WHAT'S GOING ON?!"</em></p><p> </p><p>I have to scream at The Author. It's so far away. Or, maybe it's extremely close. I can't tell.</p><p> </p><p>It's become the size of a planet. Like one of those pictures they show of what Jupiter would look like if it was orbiting the Earth in the same spot as the Moon.</p><p> </p><p>Only its tendrils...the tendrils of tendrils of tendrils...seem <em>so close</em>. Like I could reach out and touch one.</p><p> </p><p>The Author looms in front of me,<strike><em><strong> R U M B L I N G </strong></em></strike>and<strike><em><strong> H U M M I N G</strong></em></strike>. </p><p> </p><p>I need to get its attention. I need it to put me back in <em>Dragon Age</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It takes up the entire sky. I'll get crushed if it grows more.</p><p> </p><p>I reach out to grab at the nearest tendril, even though I'm not sure how far away it actually is.</p><p> </p><p>As I make contact with The Author's tendril,</p><p> </p><p>my hand</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>glows</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>bright</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>green</em>
</p><p> </p><p>and</p><p> </p><p>The Author</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>S C R E A M S</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>M I S T A K E</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>U N P R E C E D E N T E D</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>I M P O S S I B L E</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>M I S T A K E</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>M I S T A K E</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>I M P O S S I B L E</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p><strike></strike>The Author tries to yank the tendril out of my hand, but my grip tightens against my will. I <em>can't</em> let go of the tendril. It burns into my hand, melting and wriggling and squirming but unable to break contact. It seems like the bright green light <em>hurts</em> it.</p><p> </p><p>The light crawls up the tendril like an infection, spreading from the small tendril I hold to the bigger one it branches off of, then out to the other small tendrils as it makes its way up and out, and up and in, and it</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>S C R E A M S</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>S C R E A M S</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>S C R E A M S</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>S C R E A M S</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>S C R E A M S</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>And the tendrils begin to rot.</p><p> </p><p>The one in my hand breaks apart into gooey blobs that drip down through my fingers.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>S C R E A M S</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>M I S T A K E</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>S C R E A M S</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>I M P O S S I B L E</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>S C R E A M S</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>An uninfected tendril lashes out at me, hitting me like a fucking bus and sending me flying into one of the last floating rocks that remain of The Not-Fade. The rest of The Not-Fade has been taken up by The Author's form.</p><p> </p><p>I look up at the sky of tendrils, watching as the infection continues to spread and rot. The tendrils spasm and twitch and I start hearing squelching, squishing sounds.</p><p> </p><p>Light is arching out from my hand like lightning, striking everywhere. Above, below, around. I don't know what I'm standing on anymore. The Author is all round me, and more and more tendrils become infected, either from the already infected tendrils, or from the lightning strikes of the green light.</p><p> </p><p>Another uninfected tendril lashes out. I can see the infection crawling up its base, but the uninfected end makes a slash below me.</p><p> </p><p>The slash opens up a void.</p><p> </p><p>The Author</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em> <strong>S C R E A M S S C R E A M S S C R E A M S S C R E A M S S C R E A M S S C R E A M S S C R E A M S S C R E A M S S C R E A M S S</strong> </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>And shoves me through the void.</p><p> </p><p>The tendril pushing me through bursts open like a rotten fruit, sealing the slash.</p><p> </p><p>I see only darkness for a few moments, then green light begins worming its way through the remnants of the vine.</p><p> </p><p>The infection spreads, lighting up the pulp of the seal with bright green.</p><p> </p><p>My hand reaches up, trying to connect the light in my hand to the light in the seal.</p><p> </p><p>The green light grows outward into the darkness, surrounding me on all sides.</p><p> </p><p>The void starts cracking all around me</p><p> </p><p>like glass</p><p> </p><p>until</p><p> </p><p>the void</p><p> </p><p>shatters.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Regroup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What. Just. Happened.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Solas~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He tried to pull Halea away from the barrier, but her hand was sealed to it.</p><p> </p><p>He had never seen anything like it before.</p><p> </p><p>The barrier pulsed with the energy from The Anchor, and Halea's screams echoed in the War Room.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>HALEA! YOU MUST LET GO!"</em></p><p> </p><p>She could not hear him.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes were open wide, but she didn't see anything. Her body was rigid, her muscles tense, her joints locked.</p><p> </p><p>The barrier pulsed faster and faster, leeching ever increasing amounts of energy from The Anchor.</p><p> </p><p>Then the barrier began to spark with bright green lightning, lashing out to leave burn marks on all it strikes.</p><p> </p><p>The walls.</p><p> </p><p>The ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>The War Table.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully it avoids them.</p><p> </p><p>He held his hand over her, concentrating on feeling her magic, her energy. What had trapped her?</p><p> </p><p>Nothing. Nothing he could detect.</p><p> </p><p>More and more energy left The Anchor. Left <em>her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She was dying.</p><p> </p><p>He...</p><p> </p><p>He hadn't anticipated having to do this <em>now</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Not this soon.</p><p> </p><p>He had hoped it wouldn't come to this at all.</p><p> </p><p>But she screamed. She was in so much pain.</p><p> </p><p>And her screams grew weaker as more was drained from her.</p><p> </p><p>She was <em>dying</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The pulses of energy from the barrier began pushing against them, trying to force them back with each wave.</p><p> </p><p>His own hand began to glow with the bright green energy of the Fade. Magic he had been saving as he built up my strength.</p><p> </p><p>He reached his hand out, placing it just below Halea's elbow.</p><p> </p><p>This would cause her pain, but not as much as what's she was experiencing <em>now</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>SOLAS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra. Her duty motivated her, and her anger empowered her. Her duty was protecting Halea, even if she didn't realize it, if she hid it behind 'defeating Corypheus.' Her anger was older than this Inquisition.</p><p> </p><p>She alone was able to push through the lightning strikes, the pulses of energy, and the sound of Halea's screams.</p><p> </p><p>But the lightning grew worse, more rapid, stronger. It was now chipping the stone of the walls, and leaving small embers of Veilfire on the wood of the ceiling and the War Table.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, Cassandra," he shouted.</p><p> </p><p>And he was.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, Halea," he said softly in her ear.</p><p> </p><p>And he was.</p><p> </p><p>He didn't know if she could hear him in this state.</p><p> </p><p>He closed my eyes, feeling the magic build up in my hand,</p><p> </p><p>but</p><p> </p><p>the barrier's final burst of energy threw him off his feet into the stone wall far behind him.</p><p> </p><p>It was so powerful that it upended the War Table and threw it against a wall, also.</p><p> </p><p>He was pressed by extreme, sustained force, into the stone. His breath was squeezed out of his lungs.</p><p> </p><p>He felt a few of his ribs crack.</p><p> </p><p>And then the force was gone.</p><p> </p><p>He fell to the ground, coughing for breath.</p><p> </p><p>He clutched his side, his broken ribs aching.</p><p> </p><p>In the center of what looked like broken glass and gore lay Halea and Salome.</p><p> </p><p>Their left palms were pressed together.</p><p> </p><p>But they were both still.</p><p> </p><p>Too still.</p><p> </p><p>They were all still.</p><p> </p><p>In shock.</p><p> </p><p>Until Vivienne stood and shuffled towards them.</p><p> </p><p>Her arm hung limply by her side, clearly broken, and her regal face was marred with scrapes and burns.</p><p> </p><p>She carefully lowered to her knees, the deep black liquid staining her pants and coat, broken glass crunching and clinking underneath her.</p><p> </p><p>And Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimard, Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais, beaten, broken, exhausted, held a hand over Halea.</p><p> </p><p>It glowed soft white and she gently placed it on Halea's head, her touch careful.</p><p> </p><p>Vivienne, who believed in the enslavement of mages in Circles that suppress their powers and vilify their magic, was single-mindedly determined to <em>heal</em> the Inquisitor.</p><p> </p><p>While he...</p><p> </p><p>He, who fought for the true freedom of magic...</p><p> </p><p>He, who fought to bring back the original world and make it whole...</p><p> </p><p>He...</p><p> </p><p>He, who loved...</p><p> </p><p>Her...</p><p> </p><p>He, who loved his <em>vhenan</em>...</p><p> </p><p>He...</p><p> </p><p>...had tried to mutilate her.</p><p> </p><p>It had been to save her.</p><p> </p><p>He could not burden himself like that.</p><p> </p><p>It was to save her, and he had simply miscalculated.</p><p> </p><p>Yes.</p><p> </p><p>Vivienne was saying something, gesturing with her head to Dorian.</p><p> </p><p>Dorian made his way slowly over to the unconscious Salome. He, too, bent down and began to cast healing magic on her.</p><p> </p><p>He had to help them. Correct his miscalculation.</p><p> </p><p>He had to help his<em> vhenan.</em></p><p> </p><p>He began to stand up, when a hand latched onto his arm like a vice.</p><p> </p><p><em>Cassandra</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"What the hell was <em>that</em>, Solas?! What were you <em>doing</em>?!"</p><p> </p><p>"I told you, I don't know how that barrier became so much stronger than-"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>I am not talking about the barrier</em>," she hissed at him. There was a gash on the side of her head, blood dripping down, but she didn't seem to notice.</p><p> </p><p>She forced him towards the door. He tried to free himself from her grip, to stay, to help Halea, but her grip only tightened.</p><p> </p><p>He could not tear his eyes away from Halea's form on the ground, even as Cassandra dragged him after her out of the War Room and down the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, he saw Halea move</p><p> </p><p>slightly</p><p> </p><p>so slightly</p><p> </p><p>before Cassandra turned and tore her out of his line of sight.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Summary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gotta have everyone on the same page.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We wake up at the same time. We both jolt upright, gasping and sweaty. We both look around and see each other. We're in adjacent beds in the Infirmary. We both look at our hands, then at each other.</p><p> </p><p>We both realize that we're synchronized, and that it is is automatic and bizarre.</p><p> </p><p>We reach over and press our left palms together. Our hands glow bright green. The green in my hand seeps back into her hand. And now we're back to normal.</p><p> </p><p>"What the <em>actually fucking FUCK was that?!" </em>"<em>Fenedhis </em><em>lasa! Dirthara-ar!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>We still curse at the same time, but the feeling is extremely mutual.</p><p> </p><p>"You saved my life!"' "You almost killed me!"</p><p> </p><p>""What?"" (I almost say 'jinx' but now is <em>not</em> the time)</p><p> </p><p>I'm confused. "Wait, you almost died?!"</p><p> </p><p>Halea looks confused too. "Yes, but maybe you should go first. What happened in that barrier?!"</p><p> </p><p>"Halea...I don't know if you're going to believe me."</p><p> </p><p>She raises an eyebrow in a 'try me' expression.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, but it gets fucking weird: I met the thing that brought me into <em>Dragon Age</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"The Dragon Age?" (Right, that's the name for the time period)</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Dragon Age</em> is the name of the series." She nods and twirls her hand in the universal sign of 'go on.' "It was a thing that called itself The Author. It looks like a big ball of vines, or tentacles, but I mean <em>big</em>, bigger than the fucking <em>moon</em>. At some point it grew like crazy so it was like the entire <em>sky</em>. And it made a Fade for us to talk in. I wasn't in <em>The</em> Fade, but a Fade...illusion? Ugh, and I was <em>naked</em>! It brought me there <em>naked</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>"What?! Why?!"</p><p> </p><p>"It said something about 'creating vulnerability.' Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me. So, this Author thing, it starts telling me that it pushes people into scenarios and events and shit <em>for its own entertainment</em>. Not anything like 'the hand of destiny' or anything. Halea. I'm literally her <em>just for its entertainment</em>. I...didn't realize how disappointing that was until now..."</p><p> </p><p>Halea waits for me to process that for a few seconds. I really <em>didn't</em> realize how disappointing it was. If it was to help? If it was just some weird wormhole shit? Sure. But just because someone thought it'd be fun to send me here...and then keep fucking with me and everyone around me...</p><p> </p><p>"So, what happened?" Halea asks gently.</p><p> </p><p>"Right...so, then, it starts kind of screaming? Like it says things like 'mistake' and 'impossible' as well as just fucking <em>screaming</em>. Then my hand started glowing like <em>yours</em> does. I was able to reach out and touch The Author and the light spread through it and started killing it, I think, so it threw me back...into the barrier? I guess? And then it shattered and then I woke up here."</p><p> </p><p>Halea nods, looking at her hand. "We tried to dispel the barrier but nothing was working. Solas and I brought in Dorian and Vivienne, and even Cassandra and Hawke and Alistair did some sort of dispelling magic. We hit the barrier all at once and it didn't work. I thought, 'maybe if I just touch the barrier with The Anchor, maybe it'll do something.' It <em>did</em>, but the pain...the pain was torture."</p><p> </p><p>"Why didn't you just let go?"</p><p> </p><p>"I <em>couldn't</em>. And I couldn't tell anyone what was happening. I was just <em>screaming</em>. I think...I think Solas was going to cut off my arm..."</p><p> </p><p>The idea disturbs her, and I wince. Because that <em>will</em> happen to her. In a few years. "Oh. That's...scary..."</p><p> </p><p>"He was probably panicking, trying to get me away from the barrier. It felt like it was draining The Anchor, and because The Anchor's connected to me, it was..."</p><p> </p><p>"...It was killing you. <em>Shit</em>, Halea. I'm sorry. I think...I think your power got sent to me. You helped me escape, The Author, the barrier-"</p><p> </p><p>"-That goo you almost drowned in."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Ugh</em>, that was <em>so gross</em>! The Author thing tried to say it was 'ink and words.' Condescending asshole."</p><p> </p><p>She laughs, and I do, too. It starts off as humor, the ridiculousness of The Author thing starting the laughter. But our laughter turns. Into the manic laughter of two people who can't believe they survived. </p><p> </p><p>The sound must have drawn attention, because a nondescript guard peeks their head into the Infirmary. Our laughter dies away at the sight of him, but he quickly disappears, probably going to get...someone.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm starving," Halea groans. "Tavern?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hell yes."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>We walk up to the tavern in Skyhold. From the outside, we hear the hum of conversation, the taps of plates and utensils and clinks of toasting tankards, and the bard in the tavern singing one of her songs, the one about Sera, probably the cheeriest of the set.</p><p> </p><p>But when we open the door and walk in, the noise dies down almost immediately. The tavern goers stare at us with open mouths and surprised expressions. I think a few people drop utensils and cups.</p><p> </p><p>We stand in extremely uncomfortable silence, the only sounds are the crackling of the fireplace and the dripping of ale being spilled from tilted tankards held in distracted hands.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Fuck me</em>, you two actually survived!" Iron Bull's loud, deep voice yells from the back of the tavern. It sounds even louder in the silence. He stands and walks up to stand in front of us. He looks us up and down. "Yep, definitely alive!"</p><p> </p><p>He turns to the still silent tavern goers. "<em>Everyone</em>! Raise a glass! To the two hardiest fighters I've ever met: you two have survived death so many times that either it's destiny, or dumb fucking luck! <em>Cheers</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>The Chargers raise their glasses and shout in agreement, and the other tavern goers are shocked out of their stupor and do the same. The tavern <em>roars</em> with their shouts and the clashes of tankards against each other.</p><p> </p><p>Iron Bull picks up both Halea and I at once and squeezes us, in an uncharacteristic display of affection and pride.</p><p> </p><p>"Bull!" Halea wheezes. "Still...recovering!"</p><p> </p><p>"Right, right." He sets us down. "Come on, you're eating with us! As best a feast as this shitty bar can muster, on me."</p><p> </p><p>"We should probably find Cassandra and the others first..." Halea says as her stomach growls.</p><p> </p><p>"They've already waited three days," Iron Bull says with a grin. "They can wait a little longer."</p><p> </p><p>"Three?! Three days?! Holy <em>fuck</em>!" I shake my head in disbelief as Iron Bull leads us over to the Chargers' tables.</p><p> </p><p>"Come on, you've passed out for longer than that before. You should be used to it by now." Iron Bull pats my shoulder heavily a few times, enough to jar me with each pat. "Had us worried, though." He adds on quietly. "Good thing you both woke up. Now, let's eat!"</p><p> </p><p>Bread, stew, and ale never tasted so fucking good.</p><p> </p><p>Halea and I take turns telling the story of what happened. The Chargers are used to fantastic stories, and their eyes go wide and we get a lot of 'fuck' and 'shit' and 'you're kidding' at the right spots. Telling them what happened helps take away some of the terror I'd been feeling over the whole thing.</p><p> </p><p>"That's fucked up," Iron Bull says confidently once we're done.</p><p> </p><p>"You're telling me! I'm ready to have a few quiet days." I down a whole tankard of ale in one go. It's only my second tankard, and the ale's that kind that's not actually <em>that</em> alcoholic, just enough to force me to relax a little.</p><p> </p><p>But only a little.</p><p> </p><p>Halea is polishing off her third tankard while I use bread to soak up the last bits of stew when the Advisors and Cassandra burst into the tavern.</p><p> </p><p>"Praise the Maker," Cassandra says when she sees us. "You're both alive..."</p><p> </p><p>"And well-fed," I respond with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>Which was apparently the wrong thing to do.</p><p> </p><p>Because she looks <em>furious</em>. "You should have come straight to <em>us</em> when you woke up!"</p><p> </p><p>Halea signals the dwarven bartender for another ale. "Cassandra, we were hungry, there's no harm in getting something to eat first. Besides, it's not like we went far."</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra makes a Disgusted Noise and turns away. I get the feeling that she's actually relieved to see us in the tavern, she just doesn't know how to show it.</p><p> </p><p>Cullen looks between Cassandra and us, taking over from her when he realizes she's not going to turn around. "Well, if you're done with your meal, we should debrief. I've been able to set the War Room back to rights while you've been...recovering."</p><p> </p><p>"You might want to get a few drinks in you first. It's quite the story," Krem chimes in, raising his tankard to us. (I'm very happy to see that the game-appointed barmaid has been sitting close by his side the entire time)</p><p> </p><p>Halea's face takes on a hard look. "No." We all look at her in confusion. "No, I need to talk to Solas first."</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra slightly turns her head. "He's one of the things we need to debrief you on."</p><p> </p><p>"About how he tried to cut off my arm?" The Advisors freeze, and Cassandra stiffens more than she already was. An uncomfortable silence follows for a few seconds.</p><p> </p><p>"Is there a prize for guessing right?" I try to say lightly.</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra makes her way to the door instead of replying.</p><p> </p><p>"Guess not," I mumble as she walks away. I turn to Halea. "They're right, though, we need to get an idea of what's happened. What everyone remembers. But I'm definitely getting an ale to-go."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Hours later, we're all finally caught up. Halea and I tell them about what happened to the two of us. Cassandra tells us that she threw Solas into the Skyhold cells, which sends her and Halea into a shouting match about whether or not to release him. Cullen tells us that Hawke and Alistair went to scout out the Western Approach and figure out if the Grey Wardens there had made any progress.</p><p> </p><p>"They're expected to be back tonight." Cullen hands me some rolled papers. "They sent these ahead."</p><p> </p><p>I'm about to tell Cullen that the <em>Dragon Age</em> writing doesn't make any sense to me, but...</p><p> </p><p>...It looks like English, now.</p><p> </p><p>The Game. Or, The Author. I shiver.</p><p> </p><p>"What's wrong? Have you noticed something?" Leliana casts a suspicious glance over me. She must think there's some secret message or other fuckery in the letters that her spies weren't able to decipher.</p><p> </p><p>"I can read this."</p><p> </p><p>Josephine laughs, until she sees how shocked I look. "Do you...not know how to read?"</p><p> </p><p>"I...When I first got here, all the writing looked weird. It wasn't the writing I was used to, so I couldn't read it. Wait, Josephine, let me see your pen!"</p><p> </p><p>She hands over her clipboard, and on the back of one of the curling papers I write out the first thing that comes to my mind: <em>Everything's wrong and nothing makes sense</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I hold the paper up to Josephine. "Can you read this?" </p><p> </p><p>She squints at the paper. "No. What writing is this? It's strange. Is this how you write in your world?"</p><p> </p><p>I nod slowly, then hold up another one of the messages. "Does this look like normal writing?" She nods. "See, to <em>me</em>, this now looks more like <em>that</em>-" I point to my message, "-than what it seems to look like to all of you."</p><p> </p><p>The game. Or, The Author.</p><p> </p><p>"Wait..." Josephine squints at my message. "It's...it's changing!" Her eyes go wide. "Does it say, 'Everything's wrong and nothing makes sense?'"</p><p> </p><p>It feels like all the air's been squeezed out of my lungs. </p><p> </p><p>The game.</p><p> </p><p>Or, The Author.</p><p> </p><p>I'm being integrated. Either by the game, or by The Author. <em>What the fuck?!</em></p><p> </p><p>"I'm guessing the answer is 'yes?'" Josephine asks.</p><p> </p><p>I nod my head slowly.</p><p> </p><p>Then I drop the clipboard, ink and candle wax go splattering across the floor, and sprint out of the War Room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. The Return</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What's waiting for you? (It's more exposition)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Alistair~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Was it too silly to hope she was awake?</p><p> </p><p>And that, maybe, she'd be watching for them?</p><p> </p><p>For him?</p><p> </p><p>Hawke punched him in the shoulder. <em>Again</em>. "Solemn doesn't suit you, Warden. Now, if you were a broody elf with a chip on his shoulder, sure. But not you. So, <em>relax</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm relaxed. Why would you think I wasn't relaxed? I am the definition of relaxed," he lied.</p><p> </p><p>They had both written scouting reports and sent them in to Skyhold with messenger ravens.</p><p> </p><p>But he had <em>also</em> written Salome a letter. That he didn't send. He kept it in a leather pouch attached to his belt. He didn't want to throw it away, but he didn't know if he would ever give it to her.</p><p> </p><p>"Tell me, Alistair, is it the Wardens you're worried about, or a certain someone back at Skyhold?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ha. That easy to see through, am I?"</p><p> </p><p>"I told you, I have experience with handsome blondes who think too much. I'm not as good with heart-to-hearts as Varric is, but I've been told I'm an 'adequate listener.' If you'd like to talk."</p><p> </p><p>"'Adequate?' Not exactly a glowing review." He wasn't sure if he wanted to give voice to all of the worries roiling inside of him.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke cleared his throat. "I'm actually surprised you <em>haven't</em> mentioned anything."</p><p> </p><p>"'Surprised?' Why?"</p><p> </p><p>"I've heard you're more...free with your feelings than other Wardens. A little famous for it, actually."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, let me guess. You've heard all the stories of how I acted like a spoiled brat during parts of the Fifth Blight, right? That was ten years ago. And I was a fresh Grey Warden. <em>And</em> my mentor had just died thanks to a horrible betrayal by my secret-half-brother's trusted advisor. Which also killed aforementioned secret-half-brother. And I was only one of <em>two</em> Wardens who survived long enough to face the Archdemon when it was finally killed. It was, to sum it all up, <em>a lot</em>. No one should be surprised that I had a lot of <em>feelings</em> to work through."</p><p> </p><p>Hawke nodded. "Seems like. But this," he waved his hand around vaguely, "seems like a lot as well. Being hunted by fellow Grey Wardens, those Wardens being on the precipice of turning everything to shit and aiding in the destruction of the world, constantly hearing The Calling. And, oh yes, a lovely woman from another world that you started <em>drooling</em> over on our way from Crestwood."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair's face went hot with...embarrassment? Panic? Desire? Some horrible combination? He sighed. "You're right. It's a lot."</p><p> </p><p>"And this ride is <em>boring</em>, so might as well spill at least a <em>few</em> of those feelings you're trying to hide to keep <em>me</em> entertained. It's the least you could do for me."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>I</em> could do for <em>you</em>? Which one of us was doing the other a favor by looking into Red Lyrium that eventually caused them to be hunted by their own order, hmm?"</p><p> </p><p>"That distraction won't work on me. Come on. I <em>know</em> you've had a lot on your mind that you've kept all to yourself. You weren't even that talkative in camp!"</p><p> </p><p>True. Hawke was right that there had been a lot on his mind, and all of it kept getting mixed together. The only thing he could separate out from the turmoil was her. He thought about her in flashes in the day, but at night, to drown out The Calling and finally go to sleep, he focused only on her. And each of those nights he had wished he was camping <em>alone</em>. Or at least had a tent to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Besides, Hawke was right. This ride <em>was</em> boring.</p><p> </p><p>"Fine. What do you want to know first?"</p><p> </p><p>"What happens if all the Grey Wardens die?"</p><p> </p><p>"Then there's no one left to fight back Blights or Darkspawn. No one who could slay whichever Archdemon pops up next. And no one to make new Grey Wardens. It would be the literal end of our order."</p><p> </p><p>"And that's not a concern if they end all future Blights. Only, Corypheus is manipulating The Calling to manipulate them into thinking that's possible, when it isn't?"</p><p> </p><p>"Right. And we know that thanks to..."</p><p> </p><p>Salome. Who was probably lying unconscious in the Infirmary. They had taken her there immediately, healing everyone else of the broken bones and concussions, but unable to wake either her or Halea before they had set out to scout Adamant Fortress.</p><p> </p><p>"To your would-be lover?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Stop that</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Never, it's too much fun! Especially when you make it <em>so easy</em> to embarrass you." Hawke laughed at his flushed face. "You <em>do</em> like, her, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"I...<span class="u">I've come to care for</span> her. <span class="u">A great deal</span>."</p><p> </p><p>"Haven't even known the woman for a week and already you're head-over-heels for her." Hawke laughed again. "Don't be so glum! I'm sure she finds your Chantry-boy eagerness...charming."</p><p> </p><p>Finally, <em>finally</em>, the battlements of Skyhold came into view just above the trees. They were still about an hour's ride away from the fortress, but being able to actually see it lifted his spirits a little.</p><p> </p><p>"...D'you really think she finds me charming, or are you just making fun of me again?"</p><p> </p><p>"Only a little. Like I said. <em>Relax</em>. You'll do just fine. You should go look for her when we get back. If she's awake."</p><p> </p><p>"She is," a soft voice said behind Alistair.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Andraste's tits! </em>Who are you?!" Hawke immediately unsheathed his sword, pointing it at the pale boy who somehow crouched just behind Alistair's saddle. The boy must have had great balance to not fall off of the moving steed.</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, you're...you're that boy, who's friends with Salome?" Alistair had a vague feeling that they had met before.</p><p> </p><p>The boy seemed a little surprised. "Yes. You remember, because of her, but still. I'm glad. She is awake."</p><p> </p><p>Hawke slowly lowered and sheathed his sword. "You're talking of The Inquisitor?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, but she's awake, too." The boy focused on Alistair. His stare was a little unnerving. "You should go to her when you're back. It would make her happy."</p><p> </p><p>Then the boy was holding Alistair's letter. "I will give her this for you."</p><p> </p><p>"Wait!" Alistair tried to reach for the letter.</p><p> </p><p>But the boy was gone.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke and Alistair looked all around them, but there was no sign of him. "I don't like that. Not one bit," Hawke grumbled.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair groaned. "I can't believe he took the letter. Maker's <em>balls</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Why? Was it a <em>love</em> letter?" Hawke suddenly seemed more interested in the letter than in the disappearance of the strange boy.</p><p> </p><p>"Y-yes. Fine. <em>Yes</em>. Damn, damn, <em>damn</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>"Come on, it can't be <em>that</em> bad."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair just shook his head and groaned. He really hoped Hawke was right about her finding his 'Chantry-boy eagerness' charming.</p><p> </p><p>Or that, if she <em>didn't</em>, she at least wouldn't share the letter with anyone else.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Codex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The letter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>Salome,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Foolish as it is, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I would have never guessed that a flower, picked on a whim from a village destined for destruction ten years ago, would have brought our hearts together. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That you already knew me and had chosen, in the weirdest way possible, to love me...it seems impossible.</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>And yet I have to admit, I have an affection for you that I cannot explain. Maybe it was being able to watch over you after the Shrieks attacked us, seeing the gold return to your skin like an amber sunrise. </em> <em>Maybe it was that you didn't tease me for keeping that rose, or think it was silly or stupid.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You said, in as many words, that I had charmed you, and that you fell in love with me, ten years ago. I didn't get to experience that then.</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>I hope that, if I'm not wrong, you'll give me the chance to experience it for myself now. </em> <em>Maybe I'll be even better at charming you than my younger self. </em> <em>And maybe you'll fall in love with <strong>me</strong>, as I am now.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But if I am wrong, if all of this is a fool's errand, then please forgive this letter. And please burn it. Twice.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>In hope,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alistair</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>P.S. You never <strong>did</strong> tell me anything about the <span class="u">steamy bits</span> in your story.</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Companion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Start Romance? Yes / No</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cole appears, sitting on my bed and watching as I panic in the privacy of my room.</p><p> </p><p>"I know what it's like," he says softly. "Being made of two worlds. It was hard, the changing, and I was in the dark for so long. I'm glad Rhys found me, but I still am made of two worlds."</p><p> </p><p>"Did you want to change, Cole? Did you want to be more human?" I pace and rub at my face. I haven't had any almost-acne spots in a long time, but my fingers still search for them.</p><p> </p><p>"I did not have a choice, because I did not understand how I became me."</p><p> </p><p>"Do I have a choice, Cole?" Without spots to find, my fingers move to my braid. I haven't noticed how long it is until now.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know."</p><p> </p><p>Being able to read the documents of this world shouldn't upset me this much, but tears sting my eyes anyway. It's another sign that I'm being absorbed or integrated or whatever the fuck's happening. I'm so frustrated and angry that I have no fucking clue how to get home, how to stop the changes that are happening to me, how to fight against the game. I don't even really know if I'm fighting against the game, or The Author, or <em>both</em>. And everything feels impossible.</p><p> </p><p>"Here," he says, handing a folded piece of paper to me. "You should read this, now that you can. This will make you happy."</p><p> </p><p>It looks like a letter, sealed with wax that's been pressed down by something circular and flat. "Cole, who is this-"</p><p> </p><p>But he's gone.</p><p> </p><p>I sit on my bed and wipe away the hot tears. I take a closer look at the seal. I think I can see <em>something</em> in the pattern of the wax, but I can't be sure. It snaps in half when I open the letter.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'Salome, Foolish as it is, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you...'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I can read the whole letter. I read the letter again, then again, and again.</p><p> </p><p>I go over certain lines two, three times. Just to make sure I understand them.</p><p> </p><p>'<em>...I have an affection for you I cannot explain...'</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'...give me the chance to experience it myself...'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'...maybe you'll fall in love with <strong>me</strong>, as I am now.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The 'P.S.' is scratched out, but I can still read it, and it makes me smile.</p><p> </p><p>And Cole is right. It makes me happy. I still feel frustrated, worn out, and confused. But Alistair's letter makes me feel happy.</p><p> </p><p>The shutters to the window in my room rattle with a knock.</p><p> </p><p>"Salome, they're almost here!" Halea's voice shouts through the shutters.</p><p> </p><p>I put the letter on the table next to my bed and rush out the door. I haven't forgotten the panic, but I can put it aside for a while. For him.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Halea and I stand side-by-side on the battlements, looking over the walls at the two figures in the distance on horseback. One of the figures waves an arm over their head, and we wave back.</p><p> </p><p>"Can you tell which one's which?" Halea asks.</p><p> </p><p>"I think the darker splotch is Hawke? His armor's black, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"I think so. They're still a good half-hour away. We should have some food ready for them in the tavern, welcome them back!"</p><p> </p><p>"Welcome them back? From a scouting mission? Is that what you usually do?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, but it's as good excuse as any for throwing a party! Maybe some music, lots of ale and wine, the fire going, even a little-" </p><p> </p><p>"Halea if you say 'mood lighting' I will throw you off this wall."</p><p> </p><p>She grins. "Just trying to help! Come on!"</p><p> </p><p>We get into the tavern and Halea starts doling out orders. Josephine appears from fucking <em>nowhere</em> and pulls me aside and out a side door of the tavern. "Come now, we must get you ready!"</p><p> </p><p>"Ready for <em>what</em>, Josephine?!"</p><p> </p><p>She doesn't answer, just pulls me quickly along with her. We finally get to what must be <em>her</em> room, and she sits me down in front of a vanity. She looks at me in the vanity mirror, tilting my head this way and that.</p><p> </p><p>"Hair. Everything else is good." She starts taking out the braid and pulls out a bottle of oil, dabbing some on her palms and running them through my hair. "We'll just redo it, no need to get overly fancy, but it'll be tidier and sleeker. Oh! Dab some of this behind your ears!" She plucks another crystal bottle, fancier than the one of hair oil, and hands it to me.</p><p> </p><p>I unstop the tiny bottle and sniff it. The perfume inside instantly makes me think of a spice market in the hot sun of a dry desert. "This smells amazing! Vanilla...peppercorns...jasmine...cardamom...and something like chocolate-cinnamon-coffee?"</p><p> </p><p>Josephine smiles as she finishes the last of my braid, smoothing back any unruly stray hair. "I'm so very glad you like it, I had Adan make it for you!"</p><p> </p><p>"Adan? Adan makes perfume now?"</p><p> </p><p>She laughs. "Only because I ask him to! And I'm in charge of all the final scents. In my spare time I've been coming up with combinations for, well, everyone! That one's yours."</p><p> </p><p>I take a little on my ring finger, like I've seen in movies, and dab some behind my ears.</p><p> </p><p>"If you want to be a little bolder, you can also put some on the nape of your neck," Josephine says with a mischievous grin.</p><p> </p><p>"The nape of the neck is 'bolder?' Not 'between the tits' or anything?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, oddly enough. It allows the scent to linger after you walk by, making the object of your affection think of you longer. Trust me, it's tried and true in court!"</p><p> </p><p>I look at her, then at the bottle, before taking some and dabbing it at the bend where my neck meets my head. She smiles approvingly.</p><p> </p><p>She grabs my hand again and pulls me up and towards the door. "Hurry! You have to be there when he walks in, so your eyes can meet across the crowded tavern! Oh, it's so romantic! It's just like those books Cassandra's been lending me!"</p><p> </p><p>I guess this means I'll have to add Josephine's name to the Wing-Person List.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Somehow, within the thirty minutes or so until Hawke and Alistair get to Skyhold, the whole tavern is ready for a casual and rowdy feast. People have piled in and started drinking in earnest. The bard is singing rowdier songs that I don't know but make the others pound the floor with their feet and the tables with their fists.</p><p> </p><p>Josephine and Cassandra had an argument about where I was supposed to stand for 'maximum romantic effect.' They compromised on just to the left and slightly behind the large fireplace. </p><p> </p><p>"We can't make it too easy to spot you," says Josephine, patting down one last (invisible) hair on my head.</p><p> </p><p>"But we can't make it impossible either, otherwise he'll give up looking for you." Cassandra takes me by the shoulders and nudges me exactly half an inch closer to the bar, then crosses her arms and nods.</p><p> </p><p>"You two should start a book club," I say.</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra shakes her head furiously. "No. Absolutely not. I would never hear the end of it from Varric."</p><p> </p><p>Josephine nudges Halea towards me. "You must talk to someone so it doesn't look like you're waiting," Josephine says while positioning Halea next to me. She claps her hands excitedly then moves to stand with Cassandra across the room.</p><p> </p><p>"Let me guess, for optimum viewing?" I ask Halea.</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head with a smile. "Come on, this is exciting!"</p><p> </p><p>I look around the tavern and realize something. "Hey, where's Solas?"</p><p> </p><p>Halea's expression turns sad. "I finally convinced Cassandra to let him out of the cell, but he's been in his study since he got out, painting the murals. I can't get him to acknowledge me, let alone <em>talk</em> to me." She sighs. "I think it has something to do with The Anchor."</p><p> </p><p>Should I tell her? About who he is, and that he's going to betray her and cut her arm off in two years anyway?</p><p> </p><p>Halea puts on a forced smile before I can even decide. "But that's for another night! Maybe I'll sneak some wine over to him, see if it gets him to loosen up."</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, the old 'get him drunk to emotionally connect with him' trick, classic." She actually laughs, and I can see some of the sadness lift. Some.</p><p> </p><p>A cheer roars to life across the tavern. Neither of us was looking at the door, so we didn't see Alistair and Hawke come in.</p><p> </p><p>"What's all this for?" Hawke yells out, clearly excited to walk in on such a party.</p><p> </p><p>"Everybody's alive and nobody's dead!" Varric shouts back. The tavern erupts in another roar.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay <em>stay calm,</em>" Halea says very uncalmly. "Look to your left in 3...2...<em>now!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>I turn my head and look just in time to meet Alistair's eyes.</p><p> </p><p>He looks relieved to see me. And excited. And his cheeks are a bright pink as Hawke shoves him in my direction. He shoots an annoyed look at Hawke, who gives him a thumbs up in return.</p><p> </p><p>I can feel my own face getting warm as I laugh at the ridiculous lengths everyone, literally <em>everyone</em>, is going through to get us together. And normally this is when I'd go all contemplative about the game and the nature of free will.</p><p> </p><p>But he's looking at me and grinning, walking my way, and I'm just too fucking busy to worry about that right now.</p><p> </p><p>"Quite the party to walk in on," Alistair says, attempting to hide his nervousness behind humor. "Although the occasion's a little weird. It's not even anyone's birthday, is it?"</p><p> </p><p>"Well, Varric said it was because everyone's alive, so maybe it's an aliveday party? That's as good an excuse as any!"</p><p> </p><p>He steps closer to me to hear what I'm saying, even though it's a stupid, stupid joke and I should have thought of something better to say. We've had to yell at each other over the noise just to talk. He smells like himself and dust and horses (but the <em>good</em> kind of horses smell). He's got a small streak of dirt on his face, too. They must have walked straight here from the stables.</p><p> </p><p>I reach up to wipe at the dirt on his forehead with my fingers. I can feel my <em>everything</em> absolutely thrumming, with the noise and light all around us, and how close he is, and how he's staring into my eyes as my fingers brush his forehead then linger along the side of his face. I feel his hands, lightly touching my lower back, like he's afraid he'll scare me off.</p><p> </p><p>"I got your letter," I say, louder than I want to because now the noise <em>isn't</em> helping.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, that! Yes, I...wasn't sure about, uh, getting it to you. But your friend, the pale one, took it out of my hands. Quite literally, in fact." He clears his throat, and I feel his hands floating away from me. "Was it...did it end up as ashes?"</p><p> </p><p>And I swear, I <em>swear</em> it's like I can see into his heart through his expression because he is so <em>goddamn</em> scared of what I'm going to say and it breaks <em>my</em> heart. What to do, what to do, what's a 'romance Alistair' move that would work right now? I could say something but it's TOO. FUCKING. LOUD.</p><p> </p><p>So instead I step closer to him, my hand tilting to cup his cheek and my free hand coming up to rest at his waist. I press my body against his just enough, and he slightly leans forward too, probably not even aware he's doing it. I tilt my head to the side so I can talk in his ear, having to get on tiptoes to reach. His hands solidly rest on my lower back now, keeping me steady.</p><p> </p><p>"You don't have to worry about charming me anymore, but I'm looking forward to seeing what you've got in mind for making me fall in love with you."</p><p> </p><p>I can feel him inhale sharply, and his hands press into me. I can feel the stubble of his chin on my cheek and his breath on my ear as he replies.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I've got one thing I'd like to try."</p><p> </p><p>He pulls back and smiles, a hand coming to rest along the side of my neck just below my ear, before leaning in and kissing me.</p><p> </p><p>His lips on mine. His stubble rubbing against my chin. His hands holding me. His body pressing into mine.</p><p> </p><p>I hook my arm over his shoulder and wrap my other arm around his waist, to pull us closer together. I tilt my head, finding new ways to fit my lips on his with each angle.</p><p> </p><p>We break our kiss to come up for air.</p><p> </p><p>And the whole tavern goes <em>FUCKING NUTS</em>! Cheering! Clapping! Whooping! Pounding of feet on floorboards and fists on tables! Banging metal utensils on metal tankards!</p><p> </p><p>We look around with grins as full of embarrassment as with delight, laughing along with the others.</p><p> </p><p>The tavern settles back down to normal, but now it's too hot, too loud, too crowded.</p><p> </p><p>"I hope that wasn't too soon," he says with a grin. "Although it seems like all of our adoring fans have been waiting for that for a while."</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe we should practice more." I say with fake seriousness. "For the fans."</p><p> </p><p>He raises and eyebrow. "<span class="u">Well, I'll have to arrange that, then, won't I?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"I think I know just the spot." I take his hand and start making my way to the side door Josephine took me through earlier, Alistair following close behind.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. The First Romance Scene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Y'know, the mushy stuff. And making out.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~<br/>---------<br/>~Alistair~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thanks to the extremely ridiculous yet surprisingly helpful party in full swing at the Herald's Rest tavern, the Skyhold garden is empty.</p><p> </p><p>They'd just finished the stone gazebo, and it was that time during sunset where everything looks perfect: Golden Hour. The grass becomes emeralds, the leaves of the maple tree turn into rubies, even the stone walls seem to be made from tiger's eye.</p><p> </p><p>Walking into the center of the gazebo, I turn to look at him. I see how the light glints off his silver armor as if it was freshly polished instead of still dusty from the road. His sheepish grin and the look in his brown eyes make my heart race. I realize for the first time that his hair is auburn, and it looks like burnished bronze in the golden light, pushed back away from his forehead instead of sticking up like a cowlick.</p><p> </p><p>The golden sunlight doesn't hide his age. He doesn't look like the youth he was ten years (and less defined graphics) ago. He's traded in the full cheeks of ten years ago for sharper cheekbones. Thin wrinkles crease his forehead and hide in the inner edges of his brows, as much from his ridiculous expressions as the ones of anger and sorrow. The underneath of his eyes is shallower, making him look tired. I notice a small scar on his left cheek, long healed.</p><p> </p><p>Every touch, every flaw, every expression, every word, is gorgeous to me, because it all weaves into the intricate tapestry that is <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Oh god, one kiss from him and I turn into a fucking poet. A really shitty poet.</p><p> </p><p>"So? What do you think?" I motion to the gazebo and garden and golden light around us. "A pretty good place to 'practice,' right?"</p><p> </p><p>"I dunno," he says with an actual, literal smirk, "we really should test it and see." He pulls me in and kisses me, and kisses me, and kisses me. Each kiss flows into the next, our lips gradually parting as we sink further into each other. I press the very tip of my tongue to the edge of his lips, then dive in when his lips open wider to invite more. I swear he must be able to feel my pulse through my lips, because it's absolutely <em>pounding</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He hums in pleasant surprise when our tongues connect. He presses his body into mine. I don't remember when my back ended up against one of the stone pillars making up the gazebo.</p><p> </p><p>He pulls back and looks, no, <em>lovingly </em><em>gazes</em>, at me. "<span class="u">Maker's breath, but you're beautiful.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>My heart fucking <em>m e l t s</em>. "You're <span class="u">a lucky man</span>." And I am smiling <em>way</em> too much, but I just can't be smooth around him.</p><p> </p><p>"A lucky man, am I? I believe the other day you called me handsome, as well. While <em>avoiding</em> answering a certain question." He raises an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you sure you want to talk about that <em>now</em>? <em>Really</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Well, we <em>are</em></span>alone<span class="u">. Now's as good a time as any,</span> don't you think?" He turns and sees the chess set and chairs set up in the center of the gazebo and fucking <em>swaggers</em> over to the seat facing me, settling in. He motions to the other chair. God he'd be so annoying if he wasn't <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I am so, <em>so</em> tempted to smirk and shrug and start off the <span class="u">lamppost</span> dialogue. But that's not what I actually want. Okay, yeah, I <em>do</em>, but I also know...</p><p> </p><p>We don't have a lot of time together. Not a lot of <em>guaranteed</em> time. And I want that time to mean something if I'm going to be trapped in this motherfucking game/story/bullshit for a while. Which means it's time to have an <em>actual</em> discussion about it.</p><p> </p><p>So instead I smile and sit down. "It'll just be me saying what the scene showed. I wasn't <em>there.</em> I didn't get to really <em>experience</em> the <span class="u">steamy bits</span>. I'll tell you, if you really want. But, Alistair, I get the feeling that you want to hear about the <span class="u">steamy bits</span> because you're already comparing yourself to a <em>fictional version</em> of you that <em>I've never met</em>. Why would you listen to what one version of you did with one version of me ten years ago? It's not just to make me blush."</p><p> </p><p>He clears his throat, thrown off because I didn't keep teasing and flirting. "Ah, well, I-"</p><p> </p><p>"Is it because you're inexperienced?"</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em>'Is it because you're inexperienced?' </em>He waited to see a teasing smirk appear, but she was serious.</p><p> </p><p>He'd gotten some form of that question, usually in a much ruder way, more often than he'd liked. First it was because he had spent a large part of his life in the Chantry training as a Templar before being conscripted. He'd never understood <em>why</em> Templars took a vow of forced chastity when Andraste herself had a husband.</p><p> </p><p>Then it was because of fumbled attempts to woo the women who had seemed interested in him, and he in them. But either they tired of his humor ('immaturity,' he got more than once), or thought his displays of affection were annoying ('sissy' and 'simpering'). Once, after answering this same question for another interest, she had just <em>laughed</em> and walked away.</p><p> </p><p>He hated this question. He wasn't really embarrassed of <em>himself</em>. He didn't mind <em>not</em> sharing a bed with someone who didn't actually <em>like</em> him. But he was embarrassed when people asked it, because their reactions were usually negative. And he always felt <em>trapped</em> in those conversations, like it was his <em>job</em> to sit there and be laughed at. It was as if every time someone found out, he was suddenly inferior to who they believed him to be <em>before</em> asking.</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, sorry. I... This question, it... Answering it doesn't usually end well. For me. And, I'd really...I'd <em>really</em> like for this evening to stay as it is, or, was. Let's just go back to what we were doing before, hmm? That was a lot more enjoyable."</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair." He looked at her. The sun had finally sunk below the mountains, the golden evening turning into purple dusk, but he could still see her face. And she didn't seem to be teasing him...</p><p> </p><p>She'd liked his letter, right? The one he hadn't been sure about sending? She'd liked it. She liked him, he was fairly sure. She might even already love him as he was, right now. Not whoever he had been ten years ago (if that even was him. This part was very confusing).</p><p> </p><p>He sighed. Either it'd go well, which was unlikely, or it'd end in rejection, which he expected. He'd faced other rejections that ranged from casual to dramatic (complete with face-slapping). How much worse could this one be than any of the others he'd experienced?</p><p> </p><p>"Alright. But, promise me something?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not going to make fun of you."</p><p> </p><p>That she knew what he was going to ask her to promise took him by surprise. She said it without teasing him, she...she really <em>was</em> serious.</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you." He cleared his throat. "No, I am not 'experienced,' as you put it. The odd kiss but...nothing more." He felt his face heating up. This was the part where she would start laughing.</p><p> </p><p>"The 'odd' kiss?" She looked confused. Maker, here it comes... "Are you saying that <em>that</em>," she pointed to the pillar they had just been leaning against before he'd gone and ruined it, "<em>THAT</em> was...new?"</p><p> </p><p>He rubbed his forehead. "Yes, I-"</p><p> </p><p>"How?! That, wait, okay, don't get full of yourself or anything, but <em>that</em> was...that was kind of great. And you've never kissed anyone else like that?!"</p><p> </p><p>He laughed, shocked and flattered and relieved. "<span class="u">I'm glad you liked it</span>. I, um, I've read a lot of books that have allowed me to learn a lot of <em>theories</em>, even if I haven't had the opportunity to <em>practice</em> said theories. Lots of down time since I'm fighting less and filling out paperwork more as a Senior Commander. Or, I was, before having to go into hiding."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, <em>shit</em>. If that was off of theory, then getting in some <em>actual</em> practice would..." He thought he saw her lift her hand up to her mouth. He might have imagined her running her fingers over her lips. It was getting harder to make out her face but he was keenly aware of the outline of her.</p><p> </p><p>She was impressed with his kissing, but kissing is one thing. Sharing a bed is another entirely. She hadn't said anything about <em>that</em> part yet.</p><p> </p><p>She sat calmly in the chair opposite of him. "So." She paused. "Did you want to <em>hear</em> about the <span class="u">steamy bits</span>, or...should we wait until we can experience them together?"</p><p> </p><p>"You...really <em>don't</em> care that I'm 'inexperienced?'"</p><p> </p><p>"Do you care that I am?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, of course not! But <em>every time</em> I've had to admit it, I've been left with nothing but a bruised ego and wounded pride. Forgive me, I'm just not used to <em>not</em> being mocked about it."</p><p> </p><p>He watched the outline of her stand and move towards him, her expression invisible in the dark. She sat down in his lap (Maker, help him) and held his face in her hands. He cautiously placed his own hands on her hip and thigh.</p><p> </p><p>He felt her lean in towards him, hovering her lips over his.</p><p> </p><p>His heart was racing fast, <em>so</em> fast, and he swore his hands were shaking and he was definitely, <em>definitely</em> sweating. Cool night air be <em>damned</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair," she said quietly. He felt her breath on his lips and wanted to lean in and seal his lips to hers but she kept talking. "I will never make fun of you for being inexperienced. I promise."</p><p> </p><p>He waited for her to add in a dig at the end, a joke that would undo all the seriousness she'd shown him.</p><p> </p><p>Instead he felt her lips meet his, and he returned her kiss in earnest. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, his hands slid to pull her closer to him.</p><p> </p><p>He marveled at this woman, marveled at how lucky he was, marveled at how it felt to trust her.</p><p> </p><p>And he marveled at the fact that The Calling was, for a while, completely silent.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Call</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Did you forget?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~<br/>--------<br/>~Solas~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hours later, I come back to my room alone, a giant smile on my face and my cheeks all flushed and my heart doing fucking parkour or some shit. We'd made out more, but then we just talked about...<em>stuff</em>. Just, <em>stuff</em>. Whatever was on our minds. And it sounds <em>so dumb</em> to say that but that's what it <em>was</em>, like those random driveway conversations you have with a friend when they need to leave but you just don't want to say goodbye yet.</p><p> </p><p>And <em>holy fucking shit really , me, REALLY, did I REALLY decide SITTING IN HIS LAP was a good idea?! </em></p><p> </p><p>I mean, it <em>was</em>. He seemed to like that more of me was on more of him. I did too, but it was weird, right? Was it weird because it was fake, manufactured? Or did it just feel weird because it felt like something a teenager would do, and I'm a not-teenager?</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it wasn't weird or dumb at all. Because it didn't <em>feel</em> weird or dumb. It felt fun, and exciting, and...why can't not-teenagers have fun and feel excited about a new relationship?</p><p> </p><p>I write all these thoughts in my journal (given back to me by a 'relieved you didn't die' Blackwall) feeling all sorts of After School Special Teen With a Crush. It's weird getting used to the ink and quill thing, but I'm getting the hang of it.</p><p> </p><p>Pippity-Peps is purr-snoring on the pillow as I finish writing what's probably going to be a cringe-worthy entry, if I ever look back at it. I put the journal on the table next to my bed. Alistair's Rose and his letter are tucked in the journal. It's dark outside, probably about midnight. I should probably go to bed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>SHE'S THE ONE FOR ME AND I JUST CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT HER MY ARMS BELONG AROUND HER AND I'M SO GLAD I FOUND HER ONCE AGAIN</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The ringtone sounds like a siren, and I scramble to pull it out of my leather pouch and silence it. I'd <em>forgotten</em> about my cell phone.</p><p> </p><p>I hadn't taken it out since we went on the mission to go find the Ardent Blossom. I hadn't used it to listen to music, or to look at pics and videos of my friends and family, or to attempt to make a phone call or send a text (busy signals and 'Message Not Sent!' alerts), or to check and see if, somehow, I still had any kind of active connection to my world.</p><p> </p><p>The phone <em>buzzbuzzbuzzzzzzz buzzbuzzbuzzzzzzz buzzbuzzbuzzzzzzz</em>'s, and it sounds just as loud as the ringtone did because it's a sound that I haven't heard in <em>so long</em>. The screen is lit up, but there's no name on it. Or number. It doesn't even say 'Unknown' or 'Scam Likely' or 'No Caller ID.'</p><p> </p><p>There's just one button on the touchscreen. One option.</p><p> </p><p>The button says 'SALOME.'</p><p> </p><p>The phone vibrates in my hand over and over and over again, way longer than it should. Long enough that it should have gone to voicemail, or they should have given up.</p><p> </p><p>What if it's my dad? Or my brother? What if it's my friends, or the police, or a scientist or someone who knows about wormholes and shit?</p><p> </p><p>I sit on the floor with my back against the bed, take a deep breath, and press the button.</p><p> </p><p>"Hello?" I whisper.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>s</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>a</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>l</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>o</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>m</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>e</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The voice echoes in my head. It's jarring, like tinfoil being scraped across a cheese grater. It sends shivers through my bones and my teeth.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>you </strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>thought you could</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>K I L L</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>me</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>K I L L</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>K I L L</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>K I L L</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>K I L L</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>me</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The voice feels like its behind me, shifting sides. I turn my head, but nothing's there.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>Salome...</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p><strong> <em> <strike>that</strike> </em> </strong> <strike></strike></p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>little</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>TRICK</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>wasn't very </strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>N I C E</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>but</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>you failed</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>I</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>L I V E</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>"...The Author?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>S A L O M E</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>I hear all of the hate in its voice. I <em>feel</em> all of the hate in its voice. I want to throw the phone into the corner of the room, smash it on the ground, but I can't move.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>you must </strike></em></strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong><em><strike>face</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>the consequences</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>of </strike></em></strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>your </strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>S I N </strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>"fuck off," I whisper. Shaking. Frozen.</p><p> </p><p>Terrified.</p><p> </p><p>A horrible screeching comes over the phone.</p><p> </p><p>The Author's laughing, but it sounds like anything but laughter.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>no</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>S A L O M E</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>you must bear </strike></em></strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong><em><strike>the consequences</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>O F</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>Y O U R</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>S I N</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>S</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>A</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>L</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>O</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>M</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>E</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>come to The Fade</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>or</strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em> <strike>T H E Y W I L L A L L </strike> </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p><strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong> <strong> <em> <strike>S U F F E R</strike> </em> </strong></p><p> </p><p>A high-pitched shriek sears through my ears. As soon as I'm able to move I throw the phone at the stone wall.</p><p> </p><p>The glass shatters into pieces so small they look like glitter. It lies destroyed and silent across the room from me.</p><p> </p><p>I watch as all the pieces, from the crumpled metal of the body to the tiny sparkles of the crushed glass, turn into the dark liquid goo that almost drowned me</p><p> </p><p>-the ink-</p><p> </p><p>and disappear.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Solas painted by torch and candlelight.</p><p> </p><p>He had been painting for the last few hours.</p><p> </p><p>Cassandra had locked him in that cell for three days.</p><p> </p><p>While Halea was lying unconscious in the Infirmary (he found out later), he was confined by stone and iron, ostracized from the others.</p><p> </p><p>All for trying to <em>save</em> her.</p><p> </p><p>Not in the best methods, he readily admitted. He was thankful that the barrier had exploded before he severed her arm.</p><p> </p><p>The <em>intention</em> was for her good. Cassandra and the others decided that his intention was for ill, and they revoked their trust in him. Despite his protestations. Despite all the ways he had helped them. Despite the fact that she was his <em>vhenan</em>.</p><p> </p><p>They were right to distrust him, but for the completely incorrect reason. They should have distrusted him because of the spies he had been carefully planting in the Inquisition and around Thedas. <em>Not</em> because of how he wanted to save Halea. To save <em>her</em>. To save his <em>vhenan</em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...save her now...only to destroy her later...</em>
</p><p>An errant thought. He dismissed it.</p><p> </p><p>Their distrust was jeopardizing his plan.</p><p> </p><p>He knew he had to fulfill his debt to the world he had wronged by restoring it. Even if it meant forsaking this one. It was a false world that had to be erased, one built on the corpse of the first.</p><p> </p><p>He continued painting. The mural had grown more intricate as he found more details to focus on. Later, he would go back to reading, and researching, and planning.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...and plotting...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>...Another errant thought.</p><p> </p><p>They had yet to discuss Nightmare, as well. They'd had to wait for Halea and the girl to wake up. He was finally released once Halea realized he had been imprisoned.</p><p> </p><p>Halea had come to release him herself. She'd tried to speak with him.</p><p> </p><p>But he couldn't.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't look at her without</p><p> </p><p>seeing her body rigid in pain</p><p> </p><p>hearing her screams</p><p> </p><p>feeling his hand on her arm, ready to sever it.</p><p> </p><p>He needed to clear his head, so he went immediately to the study and picked up his paints, Halea following close behind, trying to speak with him still.</p><p> </p><p>"I am sorry...but I need...some time." He had told her, paused on the ladder halfway up the scaffolding. He had briefly looked at her. A mistake. The look in her eyes was hurt, and sorrow, and confusion. She walked away.</p><p> </p><p>One day, she would walk away from him forever.</p><p> </p><p>He knew that as surely as he knew he must go through with bringing back Elvhenan.</p><p> </p><p>It did not make it hurt any less.</p><p> </p><p>He heard the muffled sounds of happy roars from people gathered in the Herald's Rest for some sort of celebration. Of what, he had no idea.</p><p> </p><p>But he was not in the mood to celebrate. He had to think about Nightmare, and winning back enough trust to continue his plan, and protecting Halea. At least, protecting her until the day he burned the false world.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...what if you could keep her?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Enough," he said aloud. He stood on the scaffolding, staring at the Eye of the Inquisition. He had finished the details of the mural, saving the Eye for last.</p><p> </p><p>The voice that whispered to him came from the center of the Eye.</p><p> </p><p>"Who are you?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...a friend...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Then, friend, tell me your name." Most uncorrupted spirits were more straightforward. He mourned any spirit that became corrupted by this inferior world, and looked forward to restoring them in the world to come. But until Elvhenan was reborn, he had to be cautious with the corrupted spirits who found him.</p><p> </p><p>The voice did not answer.</p><p> </p><p>"Can you not speak your name? Or do you refuse to tell it to me?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...names have power...you know this well, Solas...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"True. I do not blame you for wanting to be cautious, as I am sure you do not blame me for wanting to be cautious as well. Friend, you seem to have knowledge of my plans."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...yes, a beautiful plan...heartbreaking, bittersweet, redemptive...it will be resplendent to behold...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"So you know what I must do to complete this plan. And yet you see the...sorrow I carry, knowing that I will eternally lose...her...once my plan is complete."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...what would you do to keep her?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Anything." The word leaves his lips before he can stop to think. The answer is rash, reckless, and true. He would do anything to keep her safe, so long as he completed his plan. "Anything that wouldn't interfere with the rebirth of Elvhenan," he amended.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...what if...she became...like...you...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Became like him? Became...Elvhen? Became...</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...immortal...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Solas remained silent.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...you assume you will survive the...'rebirth of Elvhenan'...because you are immortal, correct?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"I believe so, yes." He had told the girl that he wasn't sure if he remained immortal, but he strongly believed he was. Strongly enough to bet his own life on it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...strongly enough to bet...her...life on it?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Yes." Again, he spoke the word before he could think. He continued talking, almost reasoning with himself as much as with the spirit. "Yes, it would give her a chance to survive, to see the beauty of Elvhenan, to really understand what it is to be truly Elvhen. And just as I will with the Elvhen when they are restored, I will take any consequences she would give me appropriate for my actions."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...including abandonment?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Yes." Surely she would realize, after becoming Elvhen and living in Elvhenan in its full glory that the reborn world was better, that it was <em>right</em>, and that the destruction of this false world was necessary. And even if she chose anger, chose to abandon him in the reborn world...at least she would be alive. As long as his theory of immortality being enough to survive the burning of the world was correct.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...Solas, savior of Elvhenan...what will you do for me...in exchange for transforming her?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He almost spoke without thinking again, but he stopped himself. Instead, he waited to see if the spirit would continue.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...would you sacrifice another for her?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Sacrifice? Or simply kill?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...sacrifice...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"If you will provide more information, I will make a decision." He heard the soft chuckle of the spirit in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...you will go to the The Fade and face Nightmare...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...just as she said...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...all I ask in exchange...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...for transforming your beloved into an Elvhen...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...for making her immortal...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...for giving her a chance to survive the rebirth of Elvhenan...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...is that you sacrifice the one called Salome...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...to Nightmare...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Solas began pacing around the small platform of the scaffolding, thinking.</p><p> </p><p>That they were going to go to The Fade and face Nightmare was true, if the girl was to be believed. (And this spirit seemed to have confirmed that)</p><p> </p><p>That they were trying to prevent the sacrifice of either the Grey Warden or the Champion of Kirkwall to Nightmare was true.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps they could do so by <em>substituting</em> the girl?</p><p> </p><p>She had said she wasn't sure if they actually <em>died</em> when they stayed behind.</p><p> </p><p>She seemed sufficiently blinded by heroism and budding romance to be convinced that the true sacrifice was to choose between herself and them.</p><p> </p><p>She would be accomplishing her goal of saving the two of them if she took their place.</p><p> </p><p>"And if I fail?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...your beloved will remain mortal...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Nothing else? No other consequence?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...is the certain destruction of your beloved not consequence enough?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He wouldn't have to be so worried about what would happen to Halea if she was just as likely to survive as he was.</p><p> </p><p>He thought of Cole's words in Crestwood, outside of the miserable cave the Grey Warden was hiding in. <em>'Betrayal and betrayal and betrayal. All the hearts get broken, and the plans to mend them fall apart into just as many pieces.'</em></p><p> </p><p>But pieces could be mended, given enough time.</p><p> </p><p>And the girl wasn't necessary for his plans. Sacrificing her wouldn't jeopardize them.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...excellent...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Solas stared at the Eye long after the voice was gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Real talk: I'm not totally clear on the canon of the DETAILS on Solas' plan. I don't think anyone else is, either. I'm making up the detail that Solas plans to live to see the restoration of Elvhenan (which is a throw back to his plan to accept whatever punishment the Elvhen give him - can't be punished if you're not around for it). As far as I can tell, in canon, Solas is determined to bring back Elvhenan even if he dies in the process, so this is a *tweak* on that detail where he wants to bring back Elvhenan no matter the cost but ALSO assumes he'll live through it. Okay, sorry for that, just felt like I needed to clarify. ~Breaker</p><p>Ringtone: "Hey Leonardo (She Likes Me For Me)" by Blessid Union of Souls <a> https://youtu.be/vSdbQLXpmPQ</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Mini-Cutscene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One of those weird ones that doesn't seem to fit.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I tun over the leather pouch.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of yoga pants and a tank top and a headband, all that falls out of it is more goo.</p><p> </p><p>I feel bile in my throat when I realize that my bra and underwear are also goo. I rip off my clothes as fast as I can and scrub at my body with the rag I use as my washcloth. I spill water all over the floor as I manically dunk the rag into the pitcher and scrub and scrub and scrub until my skin is rosy and hot to the touch.</p><p> </p><p>I toss my clothes and the rag into the corner of my room and put on my other set with shaking hands.</p><p> </p><p>Then I go to the kitchens.</p><p> </p><p>I haven't been baking in weeks. It's hard to keep up with baking responsibilities when I'm either unconscious or traveling the majority of the time. They've got enough help that they don't really need me, but I pop in now and then.</p><p> </p><p>And right now, I really need to punch some bread.</p><p> </p><p>It's late enough and early enough that the kitchens are empty. Just a few hours until the baker comes to get the morning bread started.</p><p> </p><p>I'll just get a head start on that for him.</p><p> </p><p>I use a poker to uncover the hot coals from the pile of ash that was keeping them warm, then throw some kindling and logs in to get the fire for the bread oven started. I think briefly about grabbing my ruined clothes and throwing them into the fire, too, but they'd probably just smother it.</p><p> </p><p>I get a pitcher of water and pull out the flour and yeast and honey. Honey is easier to get than sugar, so we use it in the Medieval-ass bread we make. They make. We.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever.</p><p> </p><p>I pull down some dried rosemary from the bunches of dried herbs tied around the posts in the kitchen and find a knife, chopping it up. Because rosemary's delicious. And because I really want to chop something with a big fuck-off knife. </p><p> </p><p>I mix up the dough, put it in a bowl with linen on it, set it aside to rise. I add logs to the fire. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat until there are six bowls of rising flour and I'm out of bowls.</p><p> </p><p>Time to punch.</p><p> </p><p>I punch down the dough in the first bowl. I punch it again, and again, and again, and again, and...</p><p> </p><p>I set aside that bowl, having ruined the dough by punching it too much.</p><p> </p><p>I punch down the dough in the other five bowls the appropriate amount of times, then cover them with linen again.</p><p> </p><p>I take the ruined bowl of dough and turn it out onto the wooden counter and start kneading it. Might as well keep ruining it and working out my aggression.</p><p> </p><p>I punch and pull and tear and smash the dough over and over again. By the time I realize it's probably been long enough for all the rest of the non-ruined dough to rise, my forearms and my hands are sore.</p><p> </p><p>I take the risen dough, shape the round loafs, and put them in the oven. It'll be a lot of bread to make at once with just one person. But you can do almost anything you set your mind to when you're pissed the fuck off and terrified as shit.</p><p> </p><p>As the bread bakes, I go back to my piece of ruined dough, now the consistency of used, old chewing gum, and keep beating the shit out of it. I have to stop when both my hands cramp fully. I stretch the cramps away and toss the useless dough into the scraps bin. The other loaves still need time.</p><p> </p><p>I take out more flour, this time going for the precious sugar and butter, too. I don't know how pissed the cook or the baker are going to be at me, but I need this.</p><p> </p><p>I make four dozen shortbread cookies.</p><p> </p><p>It's hard work, on top of juggling the loaves, but the last batch is baking and I still have about an hour before the staff comes in to get started. I have a little shortbread dough left.</p><p> </p><p>I shape the little bit of dough I have left into two hearts. One is a solid heart, the other is a heart that's open on the inside. I put them in the oven after I take out the last batch.</p><p> </p><p>As the final two cookies bake, I go to the shelves of little pots and jars and look inside each one until I find what I'm looking for.</p><p> </p><p>Out come the cookies from the oven, and on the solid one goes a spoonful of strawberry jam. I put the other cookie on top of the solid one and pop the cookie-jam-sandwich back in the oven for a few minutes before taking it back out again.</p><p> </p><p>I wrap it in a linen, and take one dozen of the already cooled cookies and wrap them in another linen.</p><p> </p><p>I close the outer door to the kitchen just as the staff enter to get started.</p><p> </p><p>"Who the bloody hell made all this bread?" I hear the cook say.</p><p> </p><p>"Hah! Less work for me! There's cookies, too!" The baker sounds delighted.</p><p> </p><p>Cold comfort on a cold morning after a night of no sleep because fuck fuck fuck fuck <em>fuck</em> <em>FUCK FUCK</em>- Don't cry. Don't fucking cry. Not until I get back to my room.</p><p> </p><p>With the disgusting clothes and the black stains on the floor where my phone and original clothes melted.</p><p> </p><p>I swerve for the small Andraste shrine instead. Or chapel. Whatever the fuck they want to call it. It's empty, just a few candles and the slightest hint of morning light.</p><p> </p><p>I sit on the floor so that I'm hidden between the pews and fucking sob.</p><p> </p><p>My connections to my world, other than my own memory, are <em>gone</em>, just fucking <em>gone</em>. And with my shitty memory, I already know there are things I'm going to forget, things that I know, <em>I know</em> are important to me that I won't be able to remember and there's no way for me to remember them without the photos and videos and what if I forget everything?! What if I forget because my memory is so fucking shitty or what if I forget because the game or The ASSHOLE Author makes me forget them?!</p><p> </p><p>The cookies go cold on the pew seat behind me, and the light gets brighter and brighter as the sun comes up. I hear the squeak of the door to the chapel behind me, but hear it shut quickly. No one wants to worship their god-person-thing with someone losing their goddamn mind in the same room.</p><p> </p><p>I'd leave if I could go back to my room but I can't <em>I can't go back in there I can't</em>-</p><p> </p><p>I finally stop after probably an hour of fucking weeping. But now I'm tired and my eyes hurt and my throat hurts and my nose is runny as fuck and I don't have anywhere else to go.</p><p> </p><p>If I'm going to lose my memory - not saying I will, but it's pretty high up on the List of Possible Things That Could Go Wrong - then we need to plan for Nightmare <em>today</em>. Before I forget.</p><p> </p><p>I hear the door open again, and the sound of a pair of boots walking in. The door closes behind them. The boots make their way over to me.</p><p> </p><p>The owner of the boots sits on the pew next to where I'm crouched. "How is it I'm always the one giving you motivational speeches?"</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall.</p><p> </p><p>I laugh and groan all at once. "And you're so shitty at them."</p><p> </p><p>"That's uncalled for." I hear the creak of wood as he leans over slightly. "These cookies?"</p><p> </p><p>"Mmhmm. Help yourself."</p><p> </p><p>"What about this one wrapped up by itself?"</p><p> </p><p>I finally have to look at him to grab it out of his hand. "That one's special."</p><p> </p><p>"Fine, fine. For that boy, huh?"</p><p> </p><p>"Really? 'Boy,' <em>really</em>?" But it makes me laugh. I unwrap the other shortbread cookies and he takes one.</p><p> </p><p>"What happened, lass?"</p><p> </p><p>But I can't talk about that just yet.</p><p> </p><p>"Blackwall, we need to plan for Nightmare. <em>Today</em>. As soon as everyone's awake."</p><p> </p><p>"Sure you're up for that? You look like you've been up half the night."</p><p> </p><p>"The whole night, actually. And yes. We've got to plan. <em>Today</em>. This morning."</p><p> </p><p>He stands. "Right. I'll start getting everyone. It'll take a bit, though. You alright to get yourself to the War Room?"</p><p> </p><p>I nod and he leaves. I re-wrap the cookies and head for where I think the laundry rooms are.</p><p> </p><p>I explain to the main launderer that my clothes are disgusting and I might or might not need a new bra and new underwear. I ask for Lost and Found items to replace my other set of clothes and the underthings.</p><p> </p><p>"Is it you need a new set of clothes? Or is it the old ones are dirty?"</p><p> </p><p>"They're...they're more than dirty, they're disgusting. And the underthings aren’t salvageable." <em>They’re the horrible goo you’ll find on my clothes...</em></p><p> </p><p>The main launderer shakes his head. "We can handle disgusting just as well as dirty. But if you'd rather not handle them yourself, I'll send someone to get them. As for your underthings..." He calls to another launderer to see what they've got in the unclaimed pile.  "The <em>clean</em> pile!" The other launderer reappears with a set of underthings.</p><p> </p><p>He nods his head. "An' we'll get your 'disgusting' ones. We've probably seen worse."</p><p> </p><p>I leave for the baths, and quickly get the underthings on. It's just pieces of cloth, but it makes me feel a little bit put together, weirdly enough. I use some soap and water to wash off my face and help wake me up.</p><p> </p><p>Even with my detour, I'm still the first one at the War Room. The doors are still locked, so I sit on the ledge of one of the arches, the morning sky turning bright blue through them.</p><p> </p><p>The door between this hallway and Josephine's office opens, and Alistair walks through. His face lights up when he sees me and I feel more awake and more tired at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh! Good morning!" He's grinning as he walks up to me, and I smile back. I can feel that it's a tired smile, and he confirms it when his face shifts from giddy to worried. "I'm guessing you <em>didn't</em> sleep well?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, but I <em>did</em> make you this." I hand him the heart-shaped cookie wrapped in linen.</p><p> </p><p>He unfolds the linen and smiles at the Jammy Dodger in his hand. "<span class="u">Is that for me? Really?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, unless you hate it, then no."</p><p> </p><p>He gives me a quirked smile then takes a bite of the cookie. The jam stretches into a thin gooey line and glues crumbs of shortbread to his lips. He chews and makes appreciative 'Mmm' sounds. "This is good! Is that strawberry?"</p><p> </p><p>"You've got some..." I point to my own mouth, "right there."</p><p> </p><p>"Ah." He uses his tongue to get the crumbs and jam off of his mouth. But instead of taking the opportunity to do so in a sexy way, he <em>way</em> exaggerates it, sticking his tongue out as far as it can go and licking at all the wrong spots. "I' i' 'ere? O' 'ere?"</p><p> </p><p>It's so cartoony and ridiculous that it makes me laugh, and I feel just a little, tiny bit less tired.</p><p> </p><p>He uses the back of his hand to wipe off the jam, crumbs, and now spit, smiling. "Maybe not the most attractive way to make you smile, but it worked."</p><p> </p><p>"Who said that wasn't attractive?" I lean my head against the stone of the archway.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, so you <em>like</em> an overly active tongue? Noted." He smiles and winks.</p><p> </p><p>"You better finish that before everyone else gets here. You're the only one who got a special one."</p><p> </p><p>He sits on the ledge next to me and finishes the cookie. For the first time since I've met him, he's not wearing his metal armor. He's in a blue quilted jacket with some kind of linen shirt underneath, and light brown trousers that seem looser and more comfortable. The dark brown boots he has on look soft and well-worn.</p><p> </p><p>I lean my head on his shoulder. The jacket is soft and lightly padded and smells like him. He moves so that his arm is around me, hand on my waist, gently hugging me in.</p><p> </p><p>It's not until he's gently shaking me that I realize I fell asleep. "Salome? Ready to go in?"</p><p> </p><p>I blink, my eyes hot and gritty feeling. Halea, Blackwall, and Cassandra are standing in front of us, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>"Right, yeah. We've got a spider to kill. And I brought cookies."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Tactics</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Make sure you have all the supplies you need.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~<br/>--------<br/>~Solas~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"It sounds like it's just a big spider."</p><p> </p><p>I rub both my hands over my face like I'm scrubbing the frustration away. "<em>BULL. IT'S NOT JUST A BIG SPIDER IT'S A FUCKING DEMON LORD</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. That looks like a big spider. What's 'big' anyway? Big as me? Bigger?" He starts trying to show different sizes with his arms. "This big? <em>This </em>big?"</p><p> </p><p>We've been prepping plans for facing Nightmare for over an hour, but they still aren't <em>getting it</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"We're planning to fight this thing like it's a really tough demon, or a Revenant or something. It's <em>not</em>. It's like 30 Revenants!" I start rubbing at non-existent acne on the side of my face, my hyped-up nerves making my fingers search for something to pinch and scratch. "What's it going to take for you all to take this seriously?!"</p><p> </p><p>"We <em>are</em> taking this seriously," Halea says, her own frustration showing. "You say this thing, Nightmare, is so powerful that we end up sacrificing someone to let everyone else escape. We're trying to plan so that doesn't happen. But you're the only one who knows anything about this demon!"</p><p> </p><p>I glare over at Solas <em>yet again</em>. "Are you <em>sure</em> you don't know Nightmare, Solas? Are you <em>sure</em>? In <em>all</em> your 'travels in The Fade' and 'talks with spirits' and fucking 'research,' you <em>seriously </em> don't know anything about Nightmare? <em>Are you SURE?</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"As I have <em>said</em>, I don't know much about Nightmare. It's possible that it is a corrupted spirit, but I won't know for certain unless I research more and consult with spirits, or until I see it for myself.</p><p> </p><p>I think he's lying, but I don't know if he knows Nightmare. Not for <em>sure</em>. "You could have at least researched it while Halea and I were unconscious. I almost drowned in ooze to get you that info." I've never been good at hiding when I'm pissed off, and I sure as shit am not going to hide when I'm pissed off with <em>this</em> asshole.</p><p> </p><p>"I would have. If I hadn't been incarcerated." He glances at Cassandra, who glares back at him. She still doesn't trust him.</p><p> </p><p>Good.</p><p> </p><p>I pace a few steps left and right, rubbing at my face. "God-fucking-<em>dammit</em>, what the fuck's it going to take you guys to understand how bad this is going to be..."</p><p> </p><p>I stop, staring at the War Table, thinking. Trying to think. I hear some frustrated sighs around the room but I don't give a single shit that they're frustrated with <em>me</em>. I'm not letting them go into The Fade without understanding what's waiting for them.</p><p> </p><p><em>Us</em>. What's waiting for <em>us</em>. But they don't know that part yet.</p><p> </p><p>I notice the small pyramids and little signs scattered across the map. The scale of the pyramids and signs to the map gives me an idea.</p><p> </p><p>"Field trip. Follow me." I turn and leave the War Room. They better follow me.</p><p> </p><p>I walk a lot faster than I normally do, my nerves giving me a manic energy that I can't control. They realize I'm not waiting for them and have to catch up to me.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair jogs up close to me, falling into step just behind my shoulder. Having him close to me like this makes me feel more confident, like I'm the captain and he's my second-in-command. It's dumb, but still it makes me feel better. He's my support, at least for this field trip.</p><p> </p><p>I lead them all to side of the Herald's Rest, where the windows into Sera's room are. I stare up at the building, gauging the size of it. It's about right.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright, we're here. What now?" Cullen stands in his War Room stance, hands on the pommel of his sword.</p><p> </p><p>"Hand Alistair your sword." The former Chantry-boys look at one another, then back at me. "Yes, I'm serious. Give him your sword."</p><p> </p><p>"Alright...but I want it back..." Cullen takes his sweet fucking time giving up his sword.</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair, stand in front of the tavern with the sword raised." I expect him to hesitate because it could look stupid to just stand next to a tavern with a sword held up, but he doesn't hesitate. He stands there and raises the sword. The top of the sword is still a good foot below where Sera's windows start.</p><p> </p><p>"See where the sword stops? Now imagine that the tavern has at least eight fucking legs, and the <em>foundation</em> starts at the point of the sword."</p><p> </p><p>Silence. Uncomfortable shifting.</p><p> </p><p>"Cullen, switch places with Alistair." Cullen looks at me, confused. "He deserves to see it, too."</p><p> </p><p>Cullen nods and switches places, obviously a little embarrassed about standing there. But the look on Alistair's face tells me that even though he was taking me seriously before, he <em>really</em> understands how giant this fucker is now.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, that's...bigger than I was giving you credit for..." Iron Bull says reluctantly. He doesn't seem nervous, but his attitude's definitely shifted.</p><p> </p><p>I turn and walk back to the War Room without another word.</p><p> </p><p>Another hour goes by. The cookies are long gone. And we finally have a fucking plan.</p><p> </p><p>Halea writes out the final list of supplies we need. "Lots of grenades, preferable fire and confusion-"</p><p> </p><p>"AND BEES!" Sera shouts, slamming a fist on the War Table. Cassandra makes a Disgusted Noise, but I nod.</p><p> </p><p>"I like it." Halea looks at me with a raised eyebrow but writes it down anyway.</p><p> </p><p>"-And bees. And we need healing potions, lyrium, maybe something for increasing armor...definitely need some stronger weapons and armor if we can find them in time...more spots for all of these damn grenades..."</p><p> </p><p>"What of magic?" Vivienne asks.</p><p> </p><p>"Elemental walls, storms if we can manage it, anything that'll force it to stay put." Halea looks around at everyone. She hasn't decided who's coming to Adamant and who's staying. "The plan isn't to defeat Nightmare, it's to hold it off so <em>all of us</em> can escape. <em>Together</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"So that means you'll need some cover fire." Varric's been mostly quiet during all of the planning, taking in all the information. "Bianca and I are ready when you need us."</p><p> </p><p>"Remember, it's not just Nightmare that's in The Fade. There's a bunch of demons that are waiting, too." My reminder makes Halea rub her forehead, smudging a little ink across it.</p><p> </p><p>"Right. We'll need to conserve our casting energy..." Halea looks over her list and makes a final note. She holds up the list, staring at it for a long, long time. It seems short, and I panic suddenly thinking there's no way we can possible attack a giant fucking monster with just five-ish lines of supplies &amp; strategy.</p><p> </p><p>Then she lowers the paper and looks around the table. "Not everyone's going to be able to come to the Western Approach, but I need all of you to help with preparations. Are you up to the task?"</p><p> </p><p>I can imagine the music swell as everyone nods solemnly.</p><p> </p><p>"Good."</p><p> </p><p>Finally. <em>Finally</em>. There's a plan. There are steps we can take to prepare. <em>Fucking finally</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I tune out as she starts delegating tasks to everyone.</p><p> </p><p>Because as soon as my panic eases up, I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired. I don't realize how tired I am until I feel Alistair's arm catch my waist, keeping me upright.</p><p> </p><p>"You need rest," he says to me, then turns to Halea. "Inquisitor, are you set for gathering your supplies and strategy?"</p><p> </p><p>"Of course. Go get some sleep, Salome. I'll update you when you wake up."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair helps me walk out of the War Room. All of the manic energy I had while I was explaining exactly how fucked we're going to be when we face Nightmare is gone. I can actually feel my head nodding and my eyelids getting heavy. I drag my boots across the stone floors, and I would have fallen flat on my face multiple times if Alistair hadn't been almost carrying me.</p><p> </p><p>Then I realize he's steering me towards the stairs in the garden, leading up to my room. I stop, almost forcing us both to fall over.</p><p> </p><p>"Whoah, steady!" He probably thinks I tripped, but realizes I'm refusing to go forward. "What, what's wrong?"</p><p> </p><p>"I can't go back there."</p><p> </p><p>"'There,' meaning your room? You can't go back to your room?"</p><p> </p><p>I shake my head slowly. "Not right...no...not now..." I'm so tired that I have trouble putting words together. </p><p> </p><p>"Where...where <em>do</em> you want to go?"</p><p> </p><p>I'm too tired to answer. I just shake my head again.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, my room is close, we can go there. I mean, not, ah, I...I mean, you can sleep in my room if you'd like."</p><p> </p><p>I think I nod my head, and he steers me towards the stairs again. He's talking. He sounds nervous.</p><p> </p><p>"We must have rooms near each other, you went up these stairs last night and this is how I get to my room, too. Not that I saw where your room was, I just noticed you went this way." He clears his throat.</p><p> </p><p>We pass my room, taking the upper garden walkway into the main hall to one of the inner rooms reserved for visiting nobles. He gently helps me sit on his bed and I flop onto my side, asleep before my head touches the pillow.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Of course he didn't take the spirit at its word. It had promised to make Halea an Elvhen and immortal, and he knew of no such creature or spirit capable of doing that.</p><p> </p><p>But he also knew that certain beings were capable of wielding magic more powerful than most other mortals could dream. Well, most mortals who knew the stunted magic of the Veil and Fade.</p><p> </p><p>The Evanuris could wield such magic, and it had corrupted them into enslaving the Elvhen that they considered lesser. The Evanuris were why he created the Veil and Fade. But he knew the voices and the tricks of the Evanuris. And the Evanuris were still exiled.</p><p> </p><p>No, this spirit hadn't been one of them.</p><p> </p><p>So how could this unknown entity be trusted to not only to be capable of changing Halea, but also to keep its promise to do so?</p><p> </p><p>He made the excuse of needing to do research on Nightmare to prepare for the Adamant Fortress in the Western Approach, and retired to his study. He looked through the scrolls and books piled on his desk. He searched in the limited library of Skyhold.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing he found could prove the ability of the spirit to save Halea.</p><p> </p><p>And yet...</p><p> </p><p>He sat in his chair and gazed absently at the Eye of the Inquisition, briefly imagining what it would be like to show Halea Elvhenan, the <em>true</em> Elvhenan. To see her expression when she realized how much better, how purer, how <em>right </em>the world was without the Veil.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...you have doubts...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Ah. 'Friend,' I wondered when I might hear from you." He stood up and wandered towards the Eye, a hand thoughtfully cupping his chin. "I've thought much about what you've offered." He whispered, so that anyone overhearing him might think he was just mumbling to himself. It would be easy enough to just say he was thinking out loud.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...and?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"As you said, I have doubts. I have looked into the possibility of spirits granting immortality to mortals. Even the most powerful spirits cannot offer full immortality. So either you are not being honest with me, Friend, or you are not what I previously believed you to be." The spirit chuckled softly again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...you are indeed clever...I am not a spirit...nor am I a demon or any other being you could guess...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He had a theory of who this not-spirit was, but he needed to be sure. "So who are you, if you are not a being of this world, Friend?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...Solas, you know who I am...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Are you 'The Author' the girl speaks of?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...does that change your willingness to sacrifice her?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"I must have some sort of guarantee that you are capable of doing what you promise. I do not want more blood on my hands if it will not lead to Halea's immortality." He heard The Author sigh.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...the uncertainty is what makes the decision truly significant, Solas...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Significant for your story." He shook his head. "There's no decision to make unless I know that you can fulfill your promise."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...a show of proof, then?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, I believe that would be appropriate."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...very well...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And suddenly Solas was no longer Elvhen.</p><p> </p><p>He was taller, broad of shoulder and chest. His skin had turned a dark, warm gray, and he was no longer lean but heavily-muscled. He reached up to feel the top of his head, his fingers skimming thick ropes of coarse hair that fell down his back. He traced the horns that sprouted from his forehead, arching backwards and twisting slightly. He felt his chin again, finding thick stubble across a square jaw.</p><p> </p><p>The Author had turned Solas into a Par Vollen Qunari.</p><p> </p><p>Solas felt the horns again, confirming that they were solid and connected to his skull. He stared at the thick muscles that now made up his arms and the new shade of his skin. He looked at the room from his new height. It was not an illusion, but a <em>true</em> transformation.</p><p> </p><p>"And you can make this permanent?" Even his voice changed, becoming deeper, sounding more like Iron Bull than himself.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...yes...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Interesting..."</p><p> </p><p>It was more than interesting. It was <em>thrilling</em>. Not the transformation into a Par Vollen Qunari, he had never wanted to be anyone other than himself. But that The Author <em>could</em> transform him, <em>could </em>fulfill its promise, <em>could</em> actually turn Halea into an Elvhen and immortal... The thought made his heart beat quickly with excitement and joy.</p><p> </p><p>The Author merely chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>"...It would probably be best to return me to my original form before someone wonders who I am."</p><p> </p><p>And then he was himself again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...are you convinced, Solas?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"You have made a powerful argument."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...and will you do as I've asked? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...sacrifice the girl to save your beloved?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Yes."</p><p> </p><p>He said it clearly, confidently, and without hesitation.</p><p> </p><p>He would do everything in his power to leave Salome in The Fade to face Nightmare, now that he <em>knew</em> Halea could be transformed and given the chance to survive to see Elvhenan.</p><p> </p><p>He turned back to the papers scattered on his desk, sifting through them to find ones about Nightmare. He needed to find out all he could about Nightmare to influence the Inquisition's plan while undermining it with his own.</p><p> </p><p>The victorious laughter of The Author faded from his mind as Solas began reading.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Two things: ONE, I originally wanted all of the non-Salome voices to be in third person and past tense ("He looked at her") while Salome's voice is in first person and present tense ("I look at her"). I definitely haven't done that for all the non-Salome parts my past chapters, though. I might, emphasis on MIGHT, go back and rework those parts to follow that convention if I have the energy and brainpower to do it. </p><p>Which leads me to TWO. Work has been...well, it's been exactly how you'd expect it to go when you live in the United States in the middle of the pandemic. We've been prepping to open to the public and it's been a nightmare. It legitimately feels like my brain stops working after 12pm, so when I come home and WANT to write, I usually feel like I CAN'T. This has been a lot of fun to do and I've really liked having something not-work to focus on, but I can't do it as often as I want. Thanks in advance for being patient :)  Stay safe and healthy out there, everyone. ~Breaker</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Authors' Note</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A̸̲͓͔̙͂̍͋͝ ̷̛̖̄͂̌̍̃l̸̙͕̎ợ̴͍̼̬̯̦̅ơ̶̪̙̤̯̈͂͐̆͝k̴͈̮͉̰̥̟̅́̈̽ ̸̛͓̼̤͂̀̈́i̶̜̤̟̫̼̰͈͋͗͐̈̉̾͗ņ̸̬̘͍͐s̴̰͓̰͎̫̰͂̔͌͋͑͝ͅi̶̝̟̒͝ď̴̘̍͛̂̒͜͠͝ĕ̷̢̤̻̞̮̼͉̈̂͋ ̶̰̜͇̩̟̥̣͆͑͋t̶͖̠͛͌̋̈́͝ḧ̷̗̙̹́͆̉̉̑͝e̶̬̐̾͆ ̷͎̠̥̼̾̋̈́͜͝ä̴̧̩̙̋̇̓̀ù̸͔̍̅̒̒̉̕ṫ̸̨h̴̖͕̍̔̅̚o̸̧͎̼̍̀͝r̴̡̯̭͔̣̾̇̽͐̽̕͜͝'̸̤̻̺̋̀s̶̡͙̙͆͑ ̷̨͙̳͙͗͘͜͝m̶̹͖̞̈́̋̋̽̏͊̊ͅí̴̭̖͇̬͜ň̷͖̺̠̘̪͍̑̚ḓ̸̟́̽̏̋͝</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>W̴͓̚ͅë̸̢͔̖̻̜̹́̊̽̄̉͝ ̶̗̭̉̒́̚͜a̴̧͇̤̭̤̋r̶̭̫̪̈́͂̈́̀͂̀̋e̷͈̯̞̝͉̟̘͐̀̏͠ ̶̣͎̓̌̐̄͗͐̍ţ̶̲̟͈̘̱̦͂w̷̡̰̦͖̑̂́͠o̵̧͚͍̥͉̥̜̅̉͒ ̴̡̪̤̙̬̳͚͗͐̎̈͌ś̶̡̫̯͖̩̼̋͜i̴̤̮̰̱̮̗͑d̴̨͍̰̹͍̱̩͛̓̄̍̓̕̕ȩ̵͉̪̬͓̙̜̍͒ś̷̝̗̫̜̩̘̄͌͂̑ ̷̞͚̀̚ȍ̸̱̦̟̍̀͘͜f̶̛̰͈̣̠͕͋͋̈͂ ̶̡͙͚̼̙̣̈́̐̐ͅt̴̼̦͎̺̦̒͆̽̆̆̿̕h̴̭̗̬̺̰͆͒̚e̵̡̦͎̫͍̩̮̾͋ ̶̞̬̈̉̿͠s̶̺̓̉̃ả̶̫͓͔̬͌m̷̙̖̋̑ȇ̶̦̉̓̈́͛̑͝ ̴̨̜̘̈ẅ̴̢̫̮̗͍̑̐͌͌ŗ̸̙̪͇̗͕̋̒e̸̢̞̘̳̦̔t̴̟̜̱̥̿̄̋̂̓͛̒c̷̡̼̮͈̘̘͋ͅh̵̭̮͖̲͛̅̕͜e̵̼̦͖̞̽͌͆͗͜d̶̪̒ ̶̗̙͖͓̈́̋̅̒͋̋c̵̫̗̈́̑̃̎̌͘̚ơ̵̖̞̘͉̻͚̓́͐̕͝ͅį̶͇̪̌͛͛ṋ̶̨͙̪̿̚</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<a name="section0044"><h2>44. The First Fade to Black*</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fade to black, and then...</p><p>Chapters with * have sexual content. There are no major plot points if you would prefer to skip this chapter!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Halea~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She didn't think they already had access to the ingredients, weapons, and armor that they needed to fight the tavern-sized demon waiting for them in a rift in the Western Approach, but they did.</p><p> </p><p>More and more, she noticed things that made Salome's fairytale story almost make sense. It made her doubt so many things. If she'd had any time to sit down and muse over what they were getting ready to walk into, she would have been too scared to move. But activity and action are great distractions for terror.</p><p> </p><p>Halea had been all over Skyhold looking over the supplies they were gathering. She'd delegated tasks to everyone, but if she stopped moving, she'd never make it to Adamant Fortress. So she watched Blackwall and Josephine gather and organize the food and camping supplies. She watched Iron Bull, Dorian, and Cole help others load wagons. She watched Varric and Leliana look over weapons, choosing which were strong enough and which would have to stay behind. She watched Cassandra and Cullen examine armor and shields, arguing about the benefits of one alloy over the other. She watched Sera argue with Adan about the best way to store the bees while Dagna giggled and Vivienne rolled her eyes and created potions.</p><p> </p><p>And she watched the groups cast glances at each other. Josephine and Blackwall when they thought the other wasn't looking, desire simmering behind their eyes and under their smiles. Iron Bull and Dorian, without need for subtly or secrecy. Dagna and Sera, when Sera snorted and Dagna giggled and they went round and round with smiles.</p><p> </p><p>She longed for Solas. She longed for him to glance at her and smile, to tell her about this journey or that text. She longed for his lips on the nape of her neck in the soft darkness of her room at night.</p><p> </p><p>But he was distracted and distant. Maybe looking into Nightmare was more difficult than she'd originally thought. Maybe he was hurt that she didn't immediately seek him once she woke up. Maybe he felt guilty about nearly severing her arm.</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe he wasn't interested anymore.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'I am sorry...but I need...some time.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He had sounded tired. She hadn't blamed him, not really. Although she had made sure that there would be some basic comfort in the cells, they weren't comfortable by any means. How awful it would have been, to be stuck in a cage all day and all night, when he needed space to pace and ponder. She imagined him behind those cold iron bars, stalking back and forth like an animal. Probably not something anyone could just brush past and move on from.</p><p> </p><p>But she missed him. She had tried to give him the time he needed, the space he needed, but they were going to go to the Western Approach. She needed to know where they stood, where <em>he</em> stood. She already knew where she stood: by his side, as long as they wanted each other there.</p><p> </p><p>She went to the study. He stood over his desk, shifting papers and books, setting them in different piles. He looked up at her when he heard her approach.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Inquisitor.</span>" His tone was so formal, so cold. "<span class="u">I was...do you have a moment?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>She nodded her head and he led her across the hall, up the stairs, into her room, and out onto the balcony. She followed him silently, trying to see if being silent would bring her any luck in making this a romantic rendezvous.</p><p> </p><p>They stood side-by-side on the balcony, looking at the snowy mountains, until he turned to her. "<span class="u">What were you like before the Anchor?</span> <span class="u">Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your...spirit?"</span></p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"If it had, do you really think I'd have noticed?</span>" She meant it to be amusing, and got the briefest smile from him.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"No. That's an excellent point."</span> Was that relief, hidden in those words?</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">"Why do you ask?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>He turned to look at the mountains, thinking. With his back to her he asked, "Would it upset you if it <em>had</em> changed you?" He turned to face her again. "Would it upset you if you knew you had changed?"</p><p> </p><p>"Have I?" Halea's eyebrows drew together in concern. "Have you noticed something different about me?"</p><p> </p><p>"Not at all. I was simply curious as to how you would feel about being changed because of the Anchor."</p><p> </p><p>"If it's changed me into something better, then I don't think I'd mind. But what is this all about? Should I be worried?"</p><p> </p><p>"Please, set your mind at ease, you seem as much yourself as you've always been. My apologies if I've upset you, it was merely a thought."</p><p> </p><p>He turned to leave, but she reached out for him and caught his arm, forcing him to look back at her over his shoulder. "<span class="u">Don't go</span>, Solas."</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">It would be kinder in the long run.</span>" He had said things like that before, and she never understood why. It was as if he was planning to disappear one day.</p><p> </p><p>Then he turned back around to her, looking at her like a hungry animal. "<span class="u">But losing you would...</span>"</p><p> </p><p>He pulled her towards him, body pressing flush against hers as his hands held her tight around her waist. His mouth sought hers, lips and tongue speaking a passion he had seemed to restrain until now. She held him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as she returned his passion by adding her own. His hands moved from her waist to her back, the passion he spoke without words stoking the fire between them.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><span class="u">Ar lath ma, vhenan,"</span> </em>he said, beginning to pull away.</p><p> </p><p>She didn't want to watch him walk away again.</p><p> </p><p>Her hand went to the back of his neck as she pulled him in again, her lips waiting for him to speak more of the passion she knew was hidden in his heart.</p><p> </p><p>He held back, shaking his head. "<span class="u">It would be kinder-"</span> He whispered.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Ar lath ma,</em>" she whispered back, pulling him closer. "<em>Ar lath ma</em>."</p><p> </p><p>His breath shuddered and his hands tightened on her.</p><p> </p><p>He unleashed his passion, his lips drinking in her mouth, wandering down her neck, seeking the edges of her ears.</p><p> </p><p>She pulled him into the room, her fingers tugging at clasps and ties to remove the clothes that dared keep their skin from touching. His hands feverishly did the same, undoing each knot and clasp faster than wildfire burning through wilderness.</p><p> </p><p>She pushed him back onto their bed and finished undressing in front of him down to her bare toes, relishing the way he watched her even as he removed the rest of his own clothing.</p><p> </p><p>She turned and slowly walked towards the balcony, taking her time to close the doors. The dusky purple light from the sunset shone softly through the small diamond panes of the windows. The chilly mountain air streaming in from the balcony doors just before she shut them made her skin prickle.</p><p> </p><p>He came up behind her, hands tracing the tiny mountains that formed across her arms, her stomach, her thighs. She felt the nip of his kiss at the nape of her neck and sighed, leaning into his hands and his lips and his chest.</p><p> </p><p>She tilted her head back and his lips caught hers, tongues clashing in wild dances. His hands wandered until they found rest, one at her breast, teasing her nipple, the other between her legs, his long fingers rubbing and circling and entering. Her own hands pressed against the balcony doorframe, his skilled hands making her sigh.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Ar lath ma</em>, Solas," she said with heavy breath, head tilting back and hips opening as his ministrations became rougher, wilder.</p><p> </p><p>He turned her around and trailed nipping kisses down the side of her neck, his hands holding her close and stroking up and down her back. As his mouth made its way down the center of her chest, his kisses became softer, his tongue licking where his teeth would have nipped. Her hands ran over his head, her fingers tickling behind his ears and making them turn pink. She pressed her back into the doorframe as he continued down, using lips and teeth and tongue as he made his way down her lower stomach.</p><p> </p><p>He stopped just above her patch of hair and held her hips, sliding his body along hers as he stood up. His hands slid down to catch just under her thighs as she jumped to wrap her legs around him. His light brown eyes held hers from under half-closed lids as he carried her to their bed.</p><p> </p><p>He bent down, setting her on the bed as he knelt in front of her, bare knees on the carpet, hands sliding down her legs. She leaned forward, her hands drifting from his shoulders to just below his ears and kissed him, feeling his hands tighten around her calves. Their mouths parted with wet, panting breaths.</p><p> </p><p>She leaned back and lay down on the bed, a hand playfully pinching the pointed tip of his ear, while he lifted her legs to rest them on his shoulders. She met his gaze and saw hunger behind his lidded eyes. His hands, slim and graceful, smoothed back her hair and opened her to his mouth. Tongue, lips, and teeth drank and nipped and circled and sucked and stroked her. Her thighs trembled and her breath quickened, her sighs becoming louder.</p><p> </p><p>He added sounds of his own, sighs and hums, the sounds of a man who had been starving and had finally found a feast. Her legs trembled, then squeezed, toes curling, and her sighs became a soft moan. He wiped his mouth and smiled, a wolfish grin saying he was still hungry.</p><p> </p><p>She sat up and twisted to the side, inviting him onto the bed next to her. His eyes focused only on her as he made his way onto the bed, stretching out beside her. She looked down and saw that he was alert. She leaned in to kiss him, their tongues clashing again, as her hand traced from his jaw to his neck to his chest and down until her hand settled around him. She stroked up and down, squeezing and releasing, fast then slow, his own sighs quickly becoming moans between her kisses.</p><p> </p><p>She started trailing her tongue down his body, leaving him to sigh and moan as much as he wanted, her hand still stroking. She reached his own patch of hair, lifting her mouth to then circle and suck and stroke the top with her tongue while her hands worked lower, stroking and squeezing and gently, so gently pulling.</p><p> </p><p>She was only there a few moments when he sat up, breathing hard. She looked up from her own ministrations and saw the hunger that still glittered in his eyes. He said something she couldn't understand, only hearing <em>"vhenan</em>" amongst the rest of the ancient poetry that fell from his lips.</p><p> </p><p>She stretched out next to him again, rolling onto her back as he rolled onto her, his hands and lips insistent. Her own hands pulled and squeezed and, just once, slapped. He broke his kiss long enough to hold her gaze as he eased into her, watching her face, listening to her pants and sighs. They began rocking, caught together in a storm of lips and limbs and flesh. They pressed into one another fiercely, like they were trying to stop each other from breaking apart.</p><p> </p><p>"Almost," she panted.</p><p> </p><p>He slowed down and sat back on his heels while she flipped over and knelt on the mattress, hands now braced on the headboard of their bed. She tilted her hips and his fingers stroked his destination. She looked over her shoulder, waiting, her own hunger finally matching his.</p><p> </p><p>He knelt behind her and eased into her again, leaning over to hold her close to him, one of his hands overlapping hers on the headboard. They rocked together, gently for a few moments. His fingers trailed from her stomach down to circle and press and pinch as they rocked. They rocked fast, fast, faster, their movement becoming wild, unstoppable, <em>hungry</em>. They panted and moaned and sighed, the rocking becoming rougher and more desperate until finally, <em>finally, finally, finally</em>-</p><p> </p><p>Together, her head tilted back and a smile on her lips, his arms wrapped around her and his cheek pressed into her back.</p><p> </p><p>They parted and fell to the bed, panting and sweaty and tingling.</p><p> </p><p>They both turned to one another, settling into familiar configurations of arms and legs. Her head on his arm, his leg over hers, hands pressing into one another to hold each other together.</p><p> </p><p>She closed her eyes, feeling the rise and fall of their chests out of sync, the pulse of their heartbeats, the trickles of sweat rolling down their skin.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Ar lath ma, vhenan</em>," he said in a breathy sigh that hinted at the pleasant sleep to follow.</p><p> </p><p>"I love you, too," she sighed back, and quickly drifted to sleep surrounded by the warmth of his arms and the scent of his skin.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. The Second Romance Scene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fast Travel helps things move along.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We left early the next morning, traveled hard through the day, camped, and traveled hard again, and again. Three tense days, where we were all on edge.</p><p> </p><p>I had told Halea that I needed to come with them the morning we left. She'd hesitated. "Are you sure? You don't have to come, you've done enough by warning us."</p><p> </p><p>If only she knew. If fucking only. "No, I need to come with you guys. And I need to go to the Fortress, the Fade, I need to do all of it."</p><p> </p><p>Halea had looked at me suspiciously. "You 'need' to...that's an interesting way to put it. What exactly makes you 'need' to come with us?"</p><p> </p><p>"Would you let me get away with 'don't ask?'" I had tried to joke, but it must have looked like I was trying to smile through a burst appendix.</p><p> </p><p>She had paused, then nodded. "I don't like that answer, but fine. I have a feeling there's going to be someone else you need to convince, anyway."</p><p> </p><p>And she was so fucking right.</p><p> </p><p>"No, no way, absolutely not!" Alistair had said it with a nervous half-laugh behind his words. "You're joking, right? Tell me I misheard you, that you're staying here, where it's <em>safe</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Even though I had slept the entire rest of the day and through that night on his bed, I had still been tired. He had looked even worse. Instead of waking me up or even joining me on the giant-ass 'visiting nobles' bed, he had slept in a hard chair across the room. Noble, well-intentioned, kind of dumb. It was just the sort of thing he would do.</p><p> </p><p>Like trying to convince me to stay at Skyhold.</p><p> </p><p>"I've got to go to Adamant. I've got to go to the Fade."</p><p> </p><p>"Surely you don't-"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes I <em>fucking</em> do. Just accept it, take me at my actual fucking word, don't argue with me, whatever other shitty things I need to say to stop this whole thing from blowing up because you and I <em>both</em> know that I'm going no matter what. Or let's skip the overblown argument straight to the tense, awkward silence of being mad at each other or whatever-the-fuck. Because <em>I'm going</em>." I was still so tired, and the stress of having to force my way onto this suicide mission to save fucking everyone was making it worse.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't...that's not..." He had stepped back, sighed, paced a little. Regular nervous/frustrated reactions, or dramatic game mechanics/scene elements? The thought had made me just a touch more tense. <em>Everything</em> had been making me tense. He had faced me again and taken my hands. "I don't want to argue with you, or get into a pout-off. Especially because I think we both know <em>I'd</em> come out the winner." The little smile had taken just a little bit of the tension away. "I just...I worry for you. You've already risked your life, are you sure you aren't in a rush to risk it again? Couldn't you just trust that we've got this taken care of? Even a smidgen of trust?"</p><p> </p><p>I had looked down at our hands, because it was easier than looking at him with the goddamn motherfucking tears that were in my eyes. "Alistair, I don't <em>want</em> to go. I'm scared <em>shitless.</em> <em>None of us</em> should be going. But I know we have to. <em>I</em> have to."</p><p> </p><p>"Even though you don't want to?" His hand had cupped under my ear, and he had lifted my head so I had to look at him. "What's going on?"</p><p> </p><p><em>'Everything's going to get mega-fucked if I don't go to the Fade because the motherfucking Author liquified my shit and could probably do that to all of you and you'll die and I'll die and everyone will die so at least we'll all be dead together,' </em>is what I had wanted to say.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll trade you a smidgen of trust for a dash of faith," I had said instead.</p><p> </p><p>He had looked at me suspiciously, just like Halea, then nodded.</p><p> </p><p>The tension between everyone made the traveling suck. Half-hearted jokes got unamused eyerolls or just straight up ignored. People trying to help each other set up camp ended up just getting in each other's way. Sitting around the campfire at night was silent torture.</p><p> </p><p>We got to the Inquisition's scouting position in the Western Approach in the mid-afternoon of the third day. I half-heartedly listened to Scout Harding's description. "<span class="u">Sandstorms and vicious wildlife</span>...<span class="u">poison hot spring</span>...<span class="u">t</span><span class="u">he worst place in the entire world</span>...<span class="u">t</span><span class="u">he entire place feels like something's not right</span>."</p><p> </p><p>"Wonder if it's because of all the <em>possessed Grey Wardens</em>," I grumbled not-so-successfully under my breath.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry, I didn't catch that?" Harding leaned around Halea, looking at me. "Oh! Are you the otherworldly fortune teller? I didn't picture you looking so...normal." She nodded at me, friendly and professional as ever, and turned back to Halea to talk about more camping sites or some shit.</p><p> </p><p>The Western Approach is <em>hot</em>. Fucking <em>hot</em>. Hot enough to cook an egg on one of these giant-ass rocks kind of hot. Any shade that can be used is almost as precious as the muddy water we camp near.</p><p> </p><p>I wander around this first campsite. The scouts call it the <span class="u">Lost Spring Canyon</span> site. Puddles of not-super-fresh water hide under edges of large sandy boulders, and what's optimistically called the 'spring' of Lost Spring Canyon is just as muddy as the puddles. There are some trees and grass for a hint of shade, and the boulders help keep the wind and sand out of camp.</p><p> </p><p>There's an alcove in the rocks where some covered spiky wagons are stored. "<span class="u">Those shouldn't be here</span>..." I'm the one who says it, even though I don't know what the fuck these are or why there're here, let alone why they <em>shouldn't</em> be here.</p><p> </p><p>"Those look like slave wagons," Halea says as she and Solas walk up to look.</p><p> </p><p>"They look far too new to just be abandoned here," Solas says with disgust.</p><p> </p><p>Halea grimaces. "Any chance you remember anything about a bunch of slave wagons?"</p><p> </p><p>I shake my head. "I don't remember how they end up here... Pretty sure it's not related to the Wardens, though."</p><p> </p><p>She glares at the wagons. "We've got Wardens and Nightmare to take care of first, but afterwards we're figuring out where those came from."</p><p> </p><p>The tension is a little better now that we're <em>here</em>. Or maybe it's just changed. I find a logging stand (which is literally just stacks of logs near the camp...) and help move random shit. I help whoever I can set up camp and get supplies.</p><p> </p><p>The manic energy comes back, and it doesn't let me rest. I try to find more things to do as the sun starts setting. Gathering wood for the fire, prepping food, looking over the map we brought.</p><p> </p><p>It's not enough. I'm tired and wired and scared and angry and <em>tired</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I'm staring at the flames of one of the campfires, the tension of all these fucking emotions boiling around in me, when Alistair sits next to me.</p><p> </p><p>It's awkward. I wish I could add 'a little' to the description, but I can't. He still doesn't want me going to Adamant Fortress tomorrow. He promised me he wouldn't actually stop me, but he also promised he would keep trying to convince me 'for my own good.' I get where he's coming from, but over three days it got really fucking annoying.</p><p> </p><p>He takes a deep breath. "<span class="u">How do I say this...you think it would be easier...</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"Look, Alistair, it's been a long trip, I really don't want to argue more about tomorrow."</p><p> </p><p>"What? No, I-"</p><p> </p><p>"Good, and I know that we've been avoiding each other-"</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, I-"</p><p> </p><p>"-and I'm sorry, we really should have been spending time together, it's just been so fucking much-"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Salome!</em>" </p><p> </p><p>I shake my head and actually look at him. "Fuck, sorry, sorry."</p><p> </p><p>He runs a hand over his hair, smiling and shaking his head. "It's fine, you're nervous. I...I'm nervous, too."</p><p> </p><p>"Giant fucking spider demons will do that to you, right?"</p><p> </p><p>He takes another deep breath. "I'm not nervous because of the spider, Salome. Maker...<span class="u">every time I'm around you I feel as if my head's about to explode, I can't think straight.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>And suddenly this sounds very, very familiar.</p><p> </p><p>He keeps going. "<span class="u">Here's the thing: being near you makes me crazy, but I can't imagine being without you. Not...ever. I don't know how to say this another way. I want to spend the night with you, here, in the camp.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>I stare at him, and <em>now</em> I see the red creeping up his neck and ears, the nervous sweat on his forehead. He tries to keep his eyes on the campfire, but I'm being too silent for him to keep what little cool he had. He glances at me, and somehow looks even <em>more</em> nervous.</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"Maybe this is too fast, I don't know,</span>" he says as he turns to take my hands. The firelight turns him to gold, the night is cooling off around us, and everything's weirdly quiet except for the crackle of logs and the wind through the canyons around us."<span class="u">But, I know what I feel.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>His hands are hot and a little sweaty, less calloused than I thought they would be. He squeezes my hands with his, gold firelight dancing in the reflection of his brown eyes. <span class="u">"I wanted to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place, but when will it be perfect?</span>"</p><p> </p><p><span class="u">"If things were, we wouldn't have even met.</span>" It feels right for me to say. Maybe it's from the scene, but it's also the <em>truth</em>. If everything was perfect, I wouldn't have been sucked here by a ball of pretentious hairy tentacles. I'd be on my couch, he'd still just be a fictional character made up of bits of recorded sound and computer code. Thanks to everything being totally fucked up, I actually got to meet <em>him</em>. "<span class="u">We sort of stumbled into each other...</span></p><p> </p><p>He laughs, a little less nervous. "Yes, <span class="u">and despite this being the least perfect time I still found myself falling for you in between all the fighting and everything else. I really don't want to wait</span> anymore." He drops one of my hands to rub the back of his neck, eyes starting to drift away so he doesn't have to look me."<span class="u">I..I've never done this before, you know that.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"And <em>you</em> know that's okay, right?" I place my free hand on his cheek, and he leans into my palm. For the first time in way too fucking long, my heart jumps and I feel my cheeks getting warm too. This grown-ass man is being so fucking <em>cute </em>and <em>sweet</em> and <em>vulnerable</em> and all the things that are usually reserved for fictional protagonists in teen books and shows and shit, and it makes me forget for just a fucking second that this'll end tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>He covers my hand with his, turning his head to kiss my palm (and oh holy <em>fuck </em>it's cute). "<span class="u">I want it to be with you while we have the chance, in case..."</span></p><p> </p><p>"You're going to make it back, Alistair. You and Hawke and the others. It's going to be okay."</p><p> </p><p>He shakes his head, moving closer to me. "<span class="u">You don't know that. I don't know that. I'd like to be able to say that I threw caution to the wind at least once.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"I think you've probably thrown caution to the wind more than once, Alistair. Just a little while ago you were in Crestwood hiding from the Grey Wardens, remember?"</p><p> </p><p>"Fine, you got me there. How about this, then." He leans in close to me, his hands sliding to my waist and behind my ear, pulling me close into him. "<span class="u">I'd like to be able to say that I</span> shared my bed with someone I truly loved the night before we were possibly going to be killed by a demon spider in the Fade."</p><p> </p><p>"That's a weirdly specific saying." I'm smiling and it's stupid but I'm just a little bit happy for the first time in days.</p><p> </p><p>"Have you never heard it before? We say it all the time in Redcliffe." He leans in and kisses me, and I can feel the smile tugging at his lips. He stands, taking my hands and pulling me up with him. "Come, I've got a surprise for you."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, <em>really</em>?" I smile at him, wishing I could wiggle my eyebrows like a cartoon character.</p><p> </p><p>Red spreads across his face again. "Wait, n-no, not like <em>that</em>...just...come on."</p><p> </p><p>We walk out onto the sand, cool now that the sun's gone down, into the shallow canyon behind the Lost Spring camp.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. The Third Romance Scene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Who doesn't love cheese?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Alistair~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maker, he was nervous. Nervous enough for his hands to sweat, and perhaps his feet, too? Or maybe it was his imagination? The temperature was dropping far more quickly than he had anticipated, but it did little to abate the sweating.</p><p> </p><p>He hoped she would like it.</p><p> </p><p>Not <em>it</em>, although he hoped that, too, if the evening lead to that, but he hoped the surprise he had snuck away to set up would be something she would like. She hadn't seemed to notice that he had been absent between dinner and when he found her by the fire. She had been preoccupied. Of course she had, she was trying to save, well, <em>everything</em>, as far as he could tell.</p><p> </p><p>He had come up with the surprise when he found her still sleeping in his room the night before they left. He'd left to go help with the travel preparations, giving her some privacy to sleep in peace. She'd still been out when they'd had dinner, and he brought a plate to his room for her.</p><p> </p><p>She had been so soundly asleep that he didn't want to wake her. He knew that kind of exhaustion, the kind that came from finding a safe haven to lay one's head down after running for so long. It was also the kind that made you drool on your cheek and pillow. He took the napkin he'd brought with the plate and tried to wipe the drool without waking her up. She hadn't flinched, which told him she really, <em>really</em> needed that sleep.</p><p> </p><p>He could have found another room in the giant fortress to sleep in, but he didn't want her to wake up and be disoriented and alone. With that much drool, it was bound to happen. Moving her back to her room was out of the question, not when it had scared her so much. He had pulled some blankets over her, built up the fire to keep the room at just the right temperature, and snuffed out the candles and torches. He was closing the shutters to one of the windows when he thought of it. It had been a plan for the future, for after they had all returned, alive.</p><p> </p><p>And then the next morning he learned that she was coming with them. He wanted so badly to keep her safe, but he knew he couldn't force her to stay behind. He would try and get her to turn around, but just in case, he also planned on moving the surprise up to the night before they all headed into potentially certain doom.</p><p> </p><p>Keeping the supplies hidden had proved to be a challenge. Varric, who'd been one of three chosen by the Inquisitor to come to the Fade with them, had discovered them almost immediately.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, well, well, Warden, what do we have here?" Varric had lifted the corner of the oilcloth tarp, which Alistair had quickly pushed back down and finished tying closed.</p><p> </p><p>"It's a surprise," he had mumbled, more petulantly than he'd meant to.</p><p> </p><p>"For me? You shouldn't have. I'm more of a 'night on the town then back to your place' kind of guy."</p><p> </p><p>"You <em>know</em> who it's for." He shoved the box covered with the oilcloth tarp back underneath his armor and shield in the wagon.</p><p> </p><p>"And you're bringing it to romance Freckles on the road? Bold choice."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm waiting until we get to the Approach. When Hawke and I were scouting, we stayed at the Inquisition scout's campsite. I think there's a spot she'd really like..."</p><p> </p><p>"A <em>spot</em> she'd like, huh? And here I figured you for a Chantry-boy."</p><p> </p><p>"Ha, ha. Look, we can trade quips all day, but first you have to promise me that you won't tell her about this."</p><p> </p><p>Varric had chuckled, shaking his head. "This is giving me flashbacks to the romantic attempts of another friend from Kirkwall. I hope you're better on first dates than she was."</p><p> </p><p>"Joke's on you, this won't be the first date."</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry, <em>second</em> date."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair had remained silent. He couldn't argue with that. He spent the rest of the journey to the Western Approach worrying about if he was moving too fast. Salome's aloofness on the journey had made him worry even more. He tried to remind himself that it was more likely that she was worried about Nightmare and the Fade and their impending deaths, rather than already tired of him.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting next to the fire with her, he was glad to realize that it <em>was</em> Adamant Fortress that she was worried about. Of course it was, Maker, why had he ever thought it'd been about <em>him</em>? That had been selfish of him, really. Hopefully the surprise would make up for his selfishness, and make her happy, and help her forget about tomorrow for a little bit. And help him show her how much he cared for her.</p><p> </p><p>They walked away from the Lost Spring Canyon camp, towards crossroads of sand that branched off into other canyons. He saw the large, dead tree with a thieves' guild flag in tatters on it and steered them left. They were around the back of one of the large boulders that helped shelter the camp from the desert wind.</p><p> </p><p>"This way, just up here." He helped her climb up the sandy rock to the ledge. An old ladder, worn by the hot desert sun, led from the ledge to the top of the boulder. "I found this when Hawke and I were here scouting."</p><p> </p><p>He climbed up first, showing her the ladder was still sturdy, then waited at the top with his hand outstretched to pull her up the last few rungs of the ladder.</p><p> </p><p>"We're still close to camp, but the wind is gentle up here, and the others can't, um, can't see us." It sounded weird as he said it, <span class="u">creepy</span>. "I mean, we've got some privacy. I mean...I should stop talking."</p><p> </p><p>She smiled and laughed softly. She looked tired, but less so than she had been during the journey. He knew that even as she stood there holding his hand in the cool night breeze, she wasn't completely free from thinking of tomorrow. But maybe he could drive the thought further away, even if it was only for a bit.</p><p> </p><p>"Just over here." He led her to where he'd set out a thick blanket, with a linen covering something in the middle and what he hoped looked like a pile of cloth and sticks set a little away. Candles, stuck securely to the stone with a little melted wax, provided light. The breeze made the candles' flames sway gently.</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, what's all this?" Her smile grew, and he breathed more easily. </p><p> </p><p>He helped her sit down, then sat himself. "As a man with many talents and passions, I wanted to share one that I am particularly proud of with you." He tried to pull the linen off with a flourish, instead flinging the linen much too close to one of the candles and making both of them gasp. It missed, thank the Maker, but that could have been a strike against his surprise's success.</p><p> </p><p>"Oops. Uh, ignore that. Instead, let me direct your attention to <em>this</em>!" He gestured to the wooden tray and glass bottles that the linen had concealed. He had set out several cheeses on the tray, pairing them with various nuts, dried fruits, and dried meats. He had even found some wild strawberries on the way to the Western Approach, arranging everything so that the pairings were neatly grouped. Next to the tray he had two small bottles of wine, one light and one dark.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes grew wide with surprised delight. "A picnic! Wait, <em>no</em>, a charcuterie board! Holy shit!"</p><p> </p><p>The profanity passing through her beautiful lips made him laugh. "Yes, do you have these where you're from?"</p><p> </p><p>She nodded enthusiastically, hands pressed together in excitement.</p><p> </p><p>He smiled. "Most of the other Wardens don't get them, except the Orlesian ones, and they would never admit that I have a certain talent for this. Normally I want to eat everything all at once, but I have <span class="u">an unholy love of fine cheeses</span> and I can't stand by while they're scarfed down without being properly appreciated. Ready to be guided on a culinary journey?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes!"</p><p> </p><p>He paired the various cheeses with certain nuts and fruit and meat, making sure they went from the lighter cheeses and white wine to the bolder ones and red wine by the end, sipping water and wiping their fingers off on damp linen napkins to clean between tastes. He had been worried that all the little steps and details would put her off. Most people he had shared this with had become uninterested once they realized they couldn't just eat the items indiscriminately.</p><p> </p><p>But she listened to each description, followed each step, stopped to really <em>savor</em> the flavors, smiled with sparkling eyes as he described the reason behind the pairings. He thrived in her attention, his unimportant hobby feeling like a vital act of great importance under her gaze. He loved sharing this with her. He loved that she genuinely enjoyed it.</p><p> </p><p>He loved her.</p><p> </p><p>"That was delicious! You really do have a real talent for that, you know. And I can't believe you found strawberries on the road!"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I'm glad you liked it</span>," he said, a huge grin on his face. "I've got one more surprise for you."</p><p> </p><p>He set the board aside once it was cleared of food, then began blowing out the candles, now burned halfway down, the wax hardened into irregular castles.</p><p> </p><p>"Is now the right time to say 'oh <em>really</em>?'" Even as his eyes were adjusting to the darkness left behind by the candles, he could see the gently teasing smile on her face. He hoped he also saw eagerness in her smile, but he wouldn't presume it was there just yet.</p><p> </p><p>He laughed again, a little nervous once more. "Ah, not, uh, not quite yet." He cleared his throat, then sat cross-legged in front of her, taking her hands in his. "Salome, I've already told you that <span class="u">I can't imagine being without you</span>. I know we've only known each other for a short while, <span class="u">but I know what I feel</span>. I feel stronger, like I can overcome any odds, win against any enemy, as long as I have you to think of. I feel more like myself than I ever have in my entire life when I'm near you. Whenever I look at you, I feel like I see my whole world in front of me."</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair..." Her hands interlaced with his, and he thought, hoped, prayed that he saw the love he felt for her returned to him in her gaze.</p><p> </p><p>"This is going to sound weird, but will you close your eyes, then lay down next to me?"</p><p> </p><p>She giggled and grinned and his heart pounded, but she closed her eyes and laid down. He laid down next to her, and he felt her hand lace in his again, her head tilting to rest against his. "When can I open my eyes?"</p><p> </p><p>"Just a few more seconds." He closed his own eyes, letting them get adjusted to the darkness, driving away the last remaining bits of candlelight from his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>He opened his eyes to make sure that it would work. It was going to be perfect.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright, open your eyes in three...two...one..."</p><p> </p><p>She opened her eyes, and he heard her gasp.</p><p> </p><p>Above them, the stars were scattered across the deep blue of the night like diamonds across velvet. Through the center of the sky was a river of stars and light, twinkling and glittering. The entire rest of the world, even the thick blanket and sandy rock under them, faded away as they felt themselves fall into the beauty above them. They stared up at the sky, words failing to describe the sight in its full spectacular glory.</p><p> </p><p>He turned his head, whispering into her soft hair and warm skin. "This is how I feel every time I look at you."</p><p> </p><p>She turned onto her side to face him, lifting herself up onto her elbow, her other hand going to the side of his face, her thigh crossing over his. He turned his head towards her more, his hands going to her waist.</p><p> </p><p>She leaned down to kiss him, gently pressing her lips onto his, her tongue into his mouth, her body into his. His hands slid to hold her tightly, his arms encircling her. He turned onto his side as well, her other hand reaching to cup the back of his neck to pull them closer together.</p><p> </p><p>She pulled back from him a little, just enough that when she whispered he felt each movement of her lips against his.</p><p> </p><p>"I love you Alistair. <em>I love you</em>." She said those words as if they were a spell, a prayer, a plea.</p><p> </p><p>"And I you, Salome," he said, rushing in to kiss her like an ocean wave racing for the shore. He felt her love for him in his heart. He felt her body moving against his.</p><p> </p><p>She pulled back again. "Where's the goddamn tent?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was definitely going to be the Second Fade to Black chapter but I got too caught up in the CHAR-CUTE-RIE</p><p>Get it? :D</p><p>*ahem* Anyway, the Second Fade to Black chapter's up next. Hope you had as much fun reading this chapter as I did writing it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. The Second Fade to Black: Part 1*</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's always just before the apocalypse, isn't it?</p><p> </p><p>Chapters with * have sexual content. No major plot points if you'd rather skip!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Alistair~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Alistair?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hmm?" He looked up at her, the night sky with its shimmering stars and deep velvet blue framing her in starlight.</p><p> </p><p>"I said 'where's the goddamn tent.'"</p><p> </p><p>"The...oh, <em>oh</em>! Right, just a moment."</p><p> </p><p>He unwound his arms from around her, reluctant and eager at the same time, and knelt near the pile of cloth and sticks and rope. He pulled one of the ropes, instantly raising one corner of the tent. He tied the rope to the ring of an iron stake he had driven into the stone. He moved to the second rope and did the same.</p><p> </p><p>"Neat trick," he heard her say as he was securing the second corner.</p><p> </p><p>"Duncan taught it to me, actually. Saves a lot of time on setting up and taking down camp, although the ropes get tangled if you don't wrap the tent up right." He quickly raised the third corner.</p><p> </p><p>"Color me impressed. But why didn't you already have it set up?"</p><p> </p><p>He glanced at her after tying off the fourth corner of the tent. She was lounging on the blanket, the look on her face curious and sincere.</p><p> </p><p>"I didn't want to presume anything." He made his way around the tent again, tying the last few ropes hanging off of the tent so that the top of the tent vaulted up to a point, giving them more room inside.</p><p> </p><p>"But...you asked, an hour ago, and I'm here..."</p><p> </p><p>He tied the last rope and knelt on the blanket. "I came to set all this up just after dinner. I hadn't asked yet, and I...I didn't know if you'd say yes. No matter what, I had hoped that you would at least join me for the cheese board. Wouldn't it have been sad to eat it all alone? <em>Yikes</em>, just imagine, my tears oversalting everything! That would have been so sad, and a waste of cheese." He laughed nervously. "Anyway, I didn't want to bring you up here already assuming about spending the night together. And..."</p><p> </p><p>"And?" She moved forward so she was lounging in front of him, looking into his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"And you didn't <em>really</em> say yes. Not yet. Besides, people change their minds, too. Happens all the time. Maybe...maybe I'd just rather <span class="u">expect the worst</span>. At least then <span class="u">there's a small chance I'll be pleasantly surprised</span>."</p><p> </p><p>She placed a hand on his face, the freckles along her arms and dusting her forehead outshining any stars that hung in the night sky. "Then I'll make it official. I want to spend the night with you. I'm saying 'yes' to you. I'm saying 'yes' to...what was that phrase from Redcliffe you used...oh! 'sharing my bed with someone I truly love the night before we were possibly going to be killed by a demon spider in the Fade.'" Her smile was bright enough to light the dark, repeating the terrible joke he'd made earlier.</p><p> </p><p>"Really? You're sure?"</p><p> </p><p>She placed her other hand on his thigh, pushing herself up to kneeling so she could kiss him, her lips warm and smiling. "Yes, I'm sure. Now can we hurry the fuck up and get <em>into</em> the tent, please?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, just one more second." He laughed and blushed, helping her to stand so he could shake the blanket clean and spread it in the tent. The prone canvas of the tent had also hidden more pillows and blankets and bedrolls. He spread them all out and layered them until they formed a fairly plush mattress across the narrow floor. The tent wasn't exactly <em>small</em>, but saying it was for two was a stretch. Wardens had to have tents that were big enough to lay out their armor while they slept, making sure it was quickly accessible in case of Darkspawn attack.</p><p> </p><p>The fact that he hadn't heard the Calling <em>at all</em> over the past few days briefly crossed his mind until he felt Salome lift back the tent flap and test the makeshift mattress with her hand, squeezing herself into the tent's entrance with him. "Whoa...how did I not realize this was all in here?!"</p><p> </p><p>"Sneaky Warden ways, of course," he said with a smirk and a small internal cringe. Humor was always his go-to, which could help diffuse situations and ease tensions. But sometimes he wished he could be smoother, instead of just launching into a joke. She laughed anyway, thank the Maker. How had he become so damn lucky as to find a woman like Salome to love, and who even loved him back? He cleared his throat. "Ah, ladies first?"</p><p> </p><p>It was her turn to smirk at him as she crawled into the tent, making sure her shoulder, side, and hip bumped into him as she passed him. She turned to take her boots off just before completely passing through the tent, leaving them outside and brushing any loose sandy dirt off of her bare feet. She tucked her legs under her and sat on one of her hips, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>He felt his hands sweating again, <em>why</em> had the Maker cursed him to sweat when he was nervous? He sat and undid his own boots, brushing off his feet and pulling them into the tent before tying the flaps closed. They couldn't be undone from the outside without considerable effort, so much so that for most people it would be faster to simply cut through the canvas, but they could be untied with one quick pull from the inside.</p><p> </p><p>She hummed nervously. "Um, so is there any chance that there's a way to get, um, some light in here, maybe?" He turned to face her, at least, what he could see of her. Maker, she was right, it <em>was</em> dark in the tent. But more importantly, she suddenly sounded nervous.</p><p> </p><p>"Of course!" He tried to sound reassuring as he reached for a covered bundle shoved in the front corner of the tent. He unwrapped it, a dim blue light shining out from an orb in his hand. "Why? Are you, a fearsome traveler from another world, <em>scared of the dark</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe..." He saw the relief on her face in the dim light of the potent lyrium encased in a glass orb. Thin metal wires surrounded the glass orb full of potent lyrium in a cage, coming together to make a hook at the top. He stretched up onto his knees and reached up, hanging the orb from the vaulted supports of the tent. He kept an eye on the orb, his hands hovering near it until he knew it wouldn't fall.</p><p> </p><p>"There, how's that?" He looked down at her with a smile and caught her staring at the bit of his stomach that was exposed when he had raised his arms. He quickly lowered his arms and smoothed his shirt back down. Then he realized how stupid that was. He was hoping to see all of <em>her</em> so why shouldn't she see all of <em>him</em>, and they were going to remove their clothes anyway, possibly. But he hesitated still, hands awkwardly splayed across the fabric of the shirt over his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>She had only seen a peek of his stomach for a moment, a glance really. She looked back up into his eyes, concern wrinkling her forehead. "Alistair? Are you okay?"</p><p> </p><p>"I...I'm...hmmm..." He swallowed nervously, slowly sitting back on his heels, feeling her eyes on him the entire time.</p><p> </p><p>He <em>could</em> lie and say it was nothing, put on an act of bravado and confidence for her. But the truth of it was, he was nervous, <em>so nervous</em>, and he hadn't even realized how many things there were to be nervous about!</p><p> </p><p>He hadn't thought about how he would feel when she saw him naked. He hadn't even considered he might feel self-conscious until just this very moment. The most recent years he spent in the Wardens had been behind a desk or on diplomatic missions, writing out reports and letters or attending this feast or that party. And those years of inactivity had put more fat on him than he liked to admit to himself. Yes, he had kept up some training while sparring with recruits and other Wardens, and yes, he had lost quite a bit of the accumulation when he'd had to go on the run. But he still had fat that refused to budge from around his midsection.</p><p> </p><p>He was just as strong as he had ever been thanks to the last few months, but he was afraid he didn't <em>look it</em> with the fat spread over his muscles, turning any definition he might have regained into a solid mass. When he bathed or dressed, he often poked himself in the stomach, seeing how far his finger had to go through fat before it reached muscle. It was more than he would have liked. And now, he was realizing, it was <em>much</em> more than he wanted Salome to see. The fat wrapped around his torso, with an extra bit nestled stubbornly over his lower stomach and between the lines of muscle closer to his hips (which mysteriously never disappeared, no matter how much weight he put on). It was far from a paunch, but more than enough to make him suddenly embarrassed in front of her.</p><p> </p><p>He cleared his throat. "I might be just a tad self-conscious about all those years I spent at a writing desk," he said with nervous laughter in his voice. "I'm not the chiseled paragon of handsomeness that I used to be." There was his humor again, jumping out of his mouth to ruin things. Maker, why couldn't he just keep his mouth <em>shut</em>?</p><p> </p><p>This was farther than he had gone in any of his romantic endeavors yet. He knew he always messed them up at some point. Was this going to be that point, his shy self-consciousness about his body that made him hesitate? He wouldn't blame her. Why would she want to be with a man who was nervous to take his shirt off in front of her?</p><p> </p><p>In the faint, blue-tinted light, he saw a blush cross over her cheeks. She probably didn't realize that when she blushed, even her nose would turn a dusty rose color. She rubbed at the side of her face, a habit she did whenever she was nervous, he knew. She must be nervous to tell him to get out of the tent, that this was a mistake, that-</p><p> </p><p>"I, um, I actually really like someone with, uh, with-" She said something very quickly, dropping off into a murmur at the end. The dusty rose spread to her ears and blossomed bigger on her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>"With...with what?" He watched as she rubbed the side of her face a little faster. Even her temples were turning rosy, the blush was spreading so fast. "You like someone with..."</p><p> </p><p>She cleared her throat and clasped her hands in her lap, looking him in the eye while her face was as pink as a sunset. "I think extra cushioning is sexy and it makes me want you even more than I already do." She looked away and rubbed at her face again, this time with both hands. "I might've tackled you if we were at that point..."</p><p> </p><p>"Really?" He stared at her, at a loss for words. Didn't people always want the young, chiseled hero in their bed? Isn't that the kind of look people lusted after? But... "You...you <em>like</em> this?" He pinched his side, feeling the fat and muscle, especially as he sat slightly hunched, his stomach folding into slight, even rolls.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Yes</em>, okay? Jesus fuck, I'm attracted to the, the flab or tubbiness or whatever the fuck you call it here." Her hands paused on either side of her face, like she was trying to press the blush back down. "I don't know <em>why</em>, I just <em>do</em>, I just...I want...I've wanted to run my hands and my mouth all over you for, fuck, like, <em>forever</em>, and <em>now</em> I want to <em>even more</em>." She cleared her throat and looked at him. "We don't have to do anything, especially if you're already feeling uncomfortable, I just want you to know that I'm, um, I'm even <em>more</em> into spending the night with you, only if you want."</p><p> </p><p>"So, you're saying I should keep this around?" He smirked, his humor helping in a romantic situation for once, and patted his side, the fat jiggling slightly but somehow making him feel entirely different about its presence.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm saying you should be you, and that I'd want you no matter how much you put on or lose, so don't be so worried about losing the fat if you're worried about looks and desire and shit..."</p><p> </p><p>He considered her for a moment, watching her eyes dart away from him and back, her hands rubbing at the sides of her face again. He rubbed his hand over the sleeve of his shirt, then reached back and grabbed the collar, pulling it over his head. He sat down on the mattress, his own blush spreading across his face and neck, creeping down towards his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Her hands fell away from her face, and her eyes grew wide, her blush deepening. Or maybe now it wasn't a blush at all, brought on by embarrassment, but a flush, brought on by desire. He could only hope.</p><p> </p><p>He grinned and shrugged. "If you're not put off by this," he looked down and gestured to his torso, "then I'm game as long as you are."</p><p> </p><p>She moved faster than he imagined she could, rushing to straddle him, pressing her mouth to his, her momentum making him fall back onto his elbows just to stay upright. Her hands dug into his hair, then explored his bare torso. Her hands glided over his stomach and around his back while her mouth wandered down his neck and across his chest.</p><p> </p><p><em>Maker</em>, she wasn't joking.</p><p> </p><p>He could feel the energy trapped inside her through her movements, the trembling of her arms, the rush of her breath. Some of the energy must have been built up from the planning and worrying about tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>The fierceness of her kisses and the eager strokes of her hands told him that some of that energy was also desire that she had pent up. For <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She pulled back from him, sitting up, the light from the lyrium shining around her. He felt the weight of her sitting on his lap, felt the press of her hips against his, felt her stomach against his and it thrilled instead of embarrassed him. She pulled her own shirt over her head, letting it fall to the side. Although the lyrium cast her skin in a light blue light, he marveled at her amber skin, at the freckles covering her body. He wanted to map the constellations her freckles made, certain they would far surpass those that were in the stars. His lips tingled with the sudden desire to draw those constellations with his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>Her hands had been behind her back for more than a few moments, making her expression go from one of desire and longing to frustration and embarrassment.</p><p> </p><p>"God-<em>fucking</em>-dammit, I hate this thing!" He saw the straps of the undergarment for her chest tug and twist, jerking violently until she dropped her hands in defeat. "I don't know how to get this thing off..."</p><p> </p><p>He tried not to burst into laughter. "Do you need some assistance?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, and then I need to burn it, because it shouldn't be this fucking hard to take off!"</p><p> </p><p>He sat up, her hips still planted on his. She might have tumbled backwards if she hadn't grabbed onto his shoulders. "Alright, let's see..."</p><p> </p><p>His hands slid up her back until he felt the large band of the undergarment. He hugged her close so he could look over her shoulder - feeling her skin against his was a very lucky bonus - and see the configuration. She hugged him back, her arms and thighs squeezing to pull herself flat against him.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't difficult to find the button that would release the undergarment, but the buttonhole had torn into an irregular shape, making it almost impossible to undo without being able to see it. He chuckled, feeling his stomach and chest press into hers, slowly starting to accept the extra jiggle that she said was irresistible.</p><p> </p><p>"It was torn and the button was caught. No wonder you couldn't get it off. How long have you been wearing it?"</p><p> </p><p>"Four days straight," she said with a frown in her voice. His hands moved to her lower back as she sat back again and pulled the undergarment off of her, flinging it angrily into a corner of the tent.</p><p> </p><p>He stared at her breasts, scattered with freckles, her nipples dark. His lips and tongue tingled with insistence again, his hands trembling with effort to stay in place. He felt the pressure between his legs growing, pressing against her. She smiled and wiggled slightly, very clearly aware of both spots of his attention, then leaned back, hands on the floor behind her. His hands were forced to rest along her sides because of her new position, even though he hadn't moved. Her skin was soft like silk, and he ached to run his hands across every inch of her.</p><p> </p><p>"Go on," she said with a smile, her voice dropping to a sensuous murmur. "Touch me, if you want. We can put some of those theories you have into practice."</p><p> </p><p>His hands moved slowly up and down her sides, over her stomach with its own amber rolls, tracing the route his tongue would hopefully take across her speckled skin soon. She watched him, her smile wide, her eyes a little hazy. He grazed her nipple with his thumb, making her sigh.</p><p> </p><p>He rubbed her nipple with his thumb, watching her face as he changed the pressure and pattern. Her nipple hardened under his touch, goosebumps spreading across her skin. He started to lean forward but hesitated. "Is this something you...like?"</p><p> </p><p>"Is this something <em>you</em> like?" She rolled her hips suddenly, and he groaned, closing his eyes, his heart jumping into his throat.</p><p> </p><p>He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the side of her neck. She smelled of spices and flowers and herself. He made his way down her neck and over her collarbone. He took gentle mouthfuls of her breast, feeling bolder the more she sighed. One of his hands steadied her back, while his other hand slid to her rump, grasping a generous handful and pressing her hips down onto him harder.</p><p> </p><p>She rolled her hips again. His mouth made a wet pop when he released her nipple to groan, leaving behind a rosy circle surrounding it.</p><p> </p><p>"You're wicked, you <em>temptress</em>, you," he said, panting slightly.</p><p> </p><p>"'<em>Temptress</em>,' I like that." She freed her hair from her braid, making her bare breasts and stomach shimmy against his. She kissed him and her hair fell around him, surrounding him even more with her scent. He ran his hands over her hips and up and down her back. She pulled back, keeping her forehead pressed to his. "What do you want to do with this <em>temptress</em> next?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, Maker, <em>so many things</em>." He looked into her eyes with a growing grin and a raised brow. "But perhaps we can get rid of these first?" His hands ran down her thighs over her leathers.</p><p> </p><p>"Good plan."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did I sneak a Mass Effect quote in? Hell yes I did.</p><p>I was writing this and HOLY SHIT it kept getting longer and longer! So it had to be split into Part 1 and 2 (at least? Haven't finished writing 2 yet!). To be continued!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0048"><h2>48. The Second Fade to Black Part 2*</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And it just keeps on going, doesn't it?</p><p>Chapters with * have sexual content. No major plot points if you'd prefer to skip!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Alistair~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How does one remove leathers <em>sexily</em>?</p><p> </p><p>Alistair almost wished he had asked Zevran for tips the last time he had seen him a few years ago. Surely <em>he</em> would have known how to transition from <em>suggesting</em> leathers be removed to the actual <em>removal</em> of said leathers.</p><p> </p><p>His hands rested on her thighs, palms beginning to sweat again. Should he he ask her to stand up and then try to untie the binding holding her leathers together? Should he just step back and let her do it herself? What about <em>his</em> leathers?</p><p> </p><p>He jumped a little when he felt her fingers brush across his forehead, looking up from his hands on her thighs and into her dark eyes. She had wiped away sweat that had started beading on his brow, patting her damp hand on the mattress beside her to dry it. </p><p> </p><p>"What's wrong?" She said with a soft voice. It wasn't her sensuous voice that she had used a moment ago, but one that was gentle and calming. "You got quiet all of a sudden. Talk to me."</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, sorry, just not sure how to get from 'What would you say to removing your leathers' to the actual removal of leathers for all parties in a way that isn't embarrassingly awkward. Although this probably isn't the smoothest way to do it either." He felt sweat forming on the back of his neck. His hands shook slightly and his throat went dry. He was sure he was making a fool of himself. "Bit of stage fright, I suppose."</p><p> </p><p>She placed her hands on his shoulders.  "There's no such thing as a not-awkward way of getting out of pants. Even the so-called sexy ways are still super fucking awkward. Let's just take off our own."</p><p> </p><p>She moved off of him and sat on the mattress, leaning back to undo the laces at the front of her leathers. She didn't try to be seductive, just untied her leathers. He started to remove his, too. They didn't watch each other, or try to put on a show for one another. Just the simple act of removing leathers.</p><p> </p><p>"I thought each moment was supposed to be a slow, sensuous journey, fraught with sexual tension. I'm...I'm glad it doesn't have to be." He kicked his discarded leathers to the side. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh <em>fuck</em> no, that sounds exhausting!" She tossed her own leathers in the general vicinity of her other discarded clothing. Both of them sat on the mattress in their undergarments, blue light shining on them.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, so, now we..." He wasn't sure what he should do now. Should he lie down? Stay how he was?</p><p> </p><p>She shifted back over to straddle him like she had been before. "Start from here again? Maybe some more of this?" She took his hand and placed it on her breast.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, who am I to deny a perfectly reasonable request from a nearly-naked woman in my lap?" She snorted, his quip surprising her into laughter. The grin returned to his face as he felt himself relax.</p><p> </p><p>Well, not <em>all</em> of him relaxed.</p><p> </p><p>She leaned in and kissed him, her scent surrounding him once again. He placed his free hand on her rump, exhilarated that all that stood between them was scraps of fairly thin fabric. She pressed her body close, her speckled skin against his. Her hands clutched at his back, pulling herself harder into him, each movement of her body just enough to draw attention to where skin touched and where fabric still barred them from each other.</p><p> </p><p>He stroked her breast with his palm, feeling her nipple harden again. He pulled away from her mouth to nuzzle her breast, using lips and tongue to elicit sighs from her. She started rolling her hips slightly, forwards and back, and he realized it wasn't just for <em>his</em> benefit that she was doing so (although he was benefitting <em>greatly</em> from it).</p><p> </p><p>She rolled her hips hard enough that he had to groan again, definitely not the most attractive sound by any means outside of this particular scenario, but he couldn't respond any other way when she moved against him like <em>that</em>. </p><p> </p><p>She pushed forward suddenly, making him fall back onto the mattress and she on top of him. She started to rock herself against him as she kissed him deeply. He held her close, his fingers in her thick hair, groaning more as she moved faster.</p><p> </p><p>And faster.</p><p> </p><p><em>Too </em>fast!</p><p> </p><p>He rolled to the side suddenly, Salome falling with a surprised yelp. He held her, sweating and breathing heavily.</p><p> </p><p>"What the fuck? Is everything okay?"</p><p> </p><p>"Y-yes, fine, just...needed a break..." Her eyes widened with comprehension and she stayed very still, which made him both thankful and frustrated. Thankful because the evening wasn't going to end prematurely because of his own body, frustrated because he wanted to make her happy and this sudden interruption, most likely, wouldn't. "Sorry..."</p><p> </p><p>"What? Why are you sorry?" She propped herself up on her elbow, resting her head on her palm.</p><p> </p><p>"I should be able to hold myself back better..." He blushed, embarrassed and ashamed. "It was getting to be a close call, there..."</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair. I told you, I'm never going to make fun of you for being 'inexperienced.' You could have, uh...climaxed?" She looked thoughtfully confused, testing the word. He nodded in understanding, and she continued. "Climaxed while we were still dressed and I wouldn't have made fun of you. <em>Actually</em>, I would have been pretty proud of myself."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Proud</em> of yourself?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. Isn't that exactly some thing a <em>temptress</em> does?" She smiled wickedly, stroking a single finger underneath his chin.</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled. "You'd know better than I, right?" He slid his hand along her side, tracing the waves of her body back and forth. "Thank you," he added quietly. "You've kept your word, you haven't ridiculed me, and I am more grateful for that than you could know."</p><p> </p><p>"You're sounding suspiciously close to calling everything off. And we can, if <em>you</em> want. <em>I'm </em>good to keep going, but only if you actually <em>want</em> to." She looked serious.</p><p> </p><p>"I've been making a mess of this, and you still want to spend the night with me?"</p><p> </p><p>"A mess? Alistair, a mess would be if you didn't give two shits about me and were only here for yourself. I want to be with you." Her eyes sparkled with a sudden thought. "What if, hear me out, what if we skipped the rest of the foreplay, got rid of our underwear, and get straight to the part that you seem the most worried about?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, get it over with..." It was half-question, half-disappointment. She must want this all to be over and done with.</p><p> </p><p>"Jesus Fucking <em>Christ</em>, no! So you won't have any more time to freak yourself out about it! You're building it up in your head, psyching yourself out." He wasn't sure what some of those phrases meant, but he thought he understood the sentiment: He was worrying so much about doing poorly to the point that he was fulfilling his own pessimistic worries.</p><p> </p><p>She sat up and pushed him onto his back again, straddling him and staring intently in his face, hands on his shoulders. "Alistair. I want to be with you." She spoke measuredly, making sure every word was clear. "I care a lot about you wanting this, too. If <em>you</em> don't, then <em>I</em> don't. If you want to lay next to one another, not touching, I'm down. If you just want to makeout, I'm down. You don't have to put your dick in me to give me a good time. Sorry if that's crude or whatever, but it's true."</p><p> </p><p>The crudeness of her comment was lost on him with the realization that she was completely, utterly sincere. "You really wouldn't be upset to only be able to lie next to one another?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, I wouldn't." Her face flushed and she glanced away. "At this point I'd need to, uh, take care of myself, though." She looked back at him. "Is that what you want to do, just lay here?"</p><p> </p><p>His hands caressed her thighs, feeling her smooth, freckled skin and dark, fine hair. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. "No." </p><p> </p><p>He pulled her close to him and flipped them together, a surprised laugh lighting up her face. "So you want to keep going?" </p><p> </p><p>"<em>Yes</em>." He kissed her deeply, and she returned his kiss in kind, drinking each other in. He pushed aside his doubt and worry and self-consciousness. He wanted to be with her, and <em>now</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He reached down and undid the ties on both their undergarments, pulling away the last bits of clothing that remained on them and tossing them away.</p><p> </p><p>He held himself steady, his own touch reminding him how incredibly close he already was. He sunk into her.</p><p> </p><p>He broke their kiss, panting and groaning. "Maker, oh <em>Maker</em>..." Her fingers dug into his back and her breathy sighs brushed his ear as he buried his face in her neck and sunk himself deeper.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, fuck, <em>fuck, </em>keep going!" Her legs wrapped around his hips and squeezed. He obliged, whether in response to her plea or because he couldn't help himself, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure it mattered. What mattered were her excited moans in concert with his own, her body warm and soft against his.</p><p> </p><p>He breathed her name and allowed himself to be lost in the sky of her skin, the scent of her hair, the music of her voice uttering words both sacred and profane. He moved like the ocean tide, drawing back so he could rush to her again. His mouth found hers again, greedy and desperate, as if everything else was water and her mouth was the only air to be found.</p><p> </p><p>They had only been entangled for a few minutes when he climaxed. He clung to her, sinking fully, losing himself completely, his passion rushing through him. He was sure the short duration and any sounds he had made were probably embarrassing, but any embarrassment he might have felt was overwhelmed by euphoria.</p><p> </p><p>He was panting, spent, his muscles trembling. He shifted, or perhaps fell, to the side, while she arranged herself so his head was cushioned on her arm. They curled into each other, looking at one another in the soft blue light of the lyrium potion.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, how was it, Alistair?" Her smile was coy, her eyes sparkling, her skin flushed dusty rose in spots.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Hmmm...you know, according to the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now</span>."</p><p> </p><p>"Still might."</p><p> </p><p>"True, it <em>is</em> supposed to come just before <span class="u">the end of civilization as we know it</span>, which appears to be looming on several horizons." He grew quiet. "No matter what happens tomorrow, I'm glad we had this night together."</p><p> </p><p>"Me too," she said quietly back. "But the night's not over yet."</p><p> </p><p>He smirked and raised his eyebrow. "So you're an <em>insatiable</em> temptress, I should have known! I'll need to...recover...a bit, though."</p><p> </p><p>She kissed him softly. "I just want to fall asleep with you."</p><p> </p><p>"Now <em>that</em> I can do." He felt his eyelids starting to grow heavy.</p><p> </p><p>"I thought so." She kissed him again then started pulling away and sitting up, searching the tent.</p><p> </p><p>He sat up and watched her dress again. "I thought you wanted to sleep?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, but I also <em>really</em> need to pee. Shit, I should have brought a jacket. Hang on." She threw the top blanket that made up the mattress over him, grabbing at another blanket underneath it and pulling it out from under him to wrap it around herself. She undid the ties of the tent and stuck her feet through, pulling her boots on. The night air in the desert was cold, her breath coming out in clouds. Its icy fingers reached into the tent. "Oh <em>shit</em>, it's freezing! What the fuck?! <em>Jesus</em>. I'll be back!"</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, <span class="u">before</span> you <span class="u">go, have I told you that I love you?</span>" He held the top blanket close to his naked body to try to ward off the cold draft.</p><p> </p><p>She crouched at the entrance outside of the tent, holding the tent flaps almost closed to try to keep the cold outside. "I'm not sure, remind me what that sounds like?"</p><p> </p><p>He laughed. "I love you, Salome, my temptress."</p><p> </p><p>The light from her smile peeked through the bit of tent flap still open. "That <em>does</em> sound familiar. I love you too, Alistair. I'll be back."</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled, tying the tent flap closed behind her to keep whatever heat they had built up inside the tent.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I'm a lucky man</span>, indeed."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(In case you were wondering: it was easier for their underwear to work like string bikinis.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0049"><h2>49. Not-So-Chance Encounter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steel your nerves.</p><p>Monologues ahoy!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Solas~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She had disappeared shortly after dinner. He had been too busy going over final plans with Halea and the others to have been too concerned at the moment, but now he needed to find her.</p><p> </p><p>He needed to speak with her, to set his own plan in motion.</p><p> </p><p>Solas had wandered around camp, looking for her, then, on not being able to find her, asked the others at the campfire where she went.</p><p> </p><p>"Salome?" Varric chuckled smugly. He loved knowing something Solas didn't. "She went off with her lover boy. I think he set up a surprise for her, probably best to give them some privacy."</p><p> </p><p>Hawke nodded his head knowingly. "He <em>did</em> mention something about finding a 'private spot' somewhere, last we were here. Hah! Good for them!"</p><p> </p><p>"I assume we're going to tease them ruthlessly before we charge headfirst into danger tomorrow?" Halea said with a smile. "Sounds fun!"</p><p> </p><p>"Andraste's <em>tit</em>, let the two of them alone until we get <em>back</em> from that danger we're charging headfirst into," Blackwall growled, shaking his head. As soon as he found out that Salome was going with them, he had argued fiercely with Cassandra as to who would accompany them to the Western Approach and into the Fade. Scowling, Cassandra had stormed off to retrieve her belongings when Halea had chosen Blackwall to take her place.</p><p> </p><p>Solas wasn't sure why Halea had chosen Blackwall over Cassandra. Of the two warriors, Cassandra was better suited to fighting alongside Varric and himself. They'd spent enough time battling demons together before Halea awoke to have become an efficient team. The thought that it could have been for <em>Salome's </em>sake instead of Halea's irked him. Of everyone going into the Fade tomorrow, Halea's survival and his own were the most important. She should have done whatever she could to bolster her chances of making it back alive. Which meant that Cassandra <em>should</em> have been with them, instead of Blackwall.</p><p> </p><p>Then again, Halea had chosen to bring Varric over Cole, despite the both of them pleading with her with the same intensity that Cassandra and Blackwall had. If she had only been concerned for Salome's safety, she would have chosen Cole. The embodied spirit had forged a deep connection with Salome. His experience in the Fade would have benefitted them <em>all</em>. Instead, he had watched them depart Skyhold, a fat gray cat purring in his arms, a look of worry and despair on his face. Cole had whispered something to Salome before she left, but Solas had been unable to catch it.</p><p> </p><p>Varric, on the other hand, was concerned for Hawke, and would possibly concentrate on keeping <em>him</em> safe, which would not benefit their party as a whole in the slightest.</p><p> </p><p>Solas, of course, was an obvious choice. A given, really. He had told Halea of all his wanderings in the Fade, all of the knowledge he had collected. He had fought by her side since first meeting her, their movements now effortlessly coordinated in battle with only the barest need for communication.</p><p> </p><p>And he would protect Halea.</p><p> </p><p>Varric for Hawke, Blackwall (and, of course, Alistair) for Salome, and he for Halea. Perhaps the composition of their party was not as unbalanced as he had originally feared.</p><p> </p><p>He had waited with the others at the campfire until they all turned in for the night. Halea had held his hand, pulling him towards their tent, but he resisted. He hated to see the confusion on her face, but he tried to soothe her. "I need to clear my head, in preparation for tomorrow. I'll stay near the camp, but I cannot deny my longing to roam under the stars."</p><p> </p><p>"Should I go with you?" She had moved closer, gazing up at him, starlight enhancing her already enchanting features.</p><p> </p><p>"On any other night, I would welcome the company." He had placed a hand on her cheek, his thumb tracing the <em>vallaslin</em> that was etched onto her face. If only his touch alone could remove June's hateful mark on his <em>vhenan</em>. "To wander hand-in-hand with you would distract me, ruining the entire purpose of the exercise."</p><p> </p><p>"What if I promise to not be distracting?" Her smile made his breath hitch, but his resolve strengthened.</p><p> </p><p>"How could I not be distracted by you, <em>vhenan</em>, when the stars kiss your eyes as lovingly as I long to?"</p><p> </p><p>"Are you <em>really</em> going to talk this sweet to me and <em>still</em> go off alone?" She huffed, frustrated that she wasn't being invited along. But he couldn't invite her, and couldn't tell her the reason why. He had to stick to his plan, which meant that Halea had to stay in the camp tonight. "Will you at least be back before I get too lonely?" Her free hand lightly stroked along the opening of his shirt, the underlayer beneath it doing nothing to dampen the burning trail her fingers left behind on his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He caught her hand and held it to his heart, his other hand tightening on hers. "That certainly is my plan."</p><p> </p><p>"Alright. I'll hold you to that, Solas." His heart pounded as his name crossed her lips. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, whispering, "Don't be too long," in his ear. He watched as she turned to walk towards their tent in the way she did when she knew he was looking.</p><p> </p><p>In moments like these, before striking his deal with The Author, he had reminded himself to not get too attached to her, that she was a beautiful distraction while he worked towards mending the world. Now he could feel the hope rooting in his heart, the hope that this would last not for a few years, but for millennia. The beautiful distraction of her could become his beautiful constant. He just needed to make sure that Salome stayed behind with Nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>He wandered the natural corridors the canyons made behind the camp, contemplating the stars and the constellations they displayed, finalizing the last touches of his own plan. He needed to speak with Salome before dawn in order for his plan to work. But, as urgent as his need to speak to her was, he did not relish the idea of interrupting what could be the only intimate moment Salome and Alistair would ever have.</p><p> </p><p>He didn't harbor any resentment towards Salome or wish her ill. Her knowledge of his identity jeopardized him, yes, but she hadn't revealed him yet. In her own way, she wanted to right an imbalance in this world as passionately as he did. Her correction would result in two lives being saved, instead of one. His would result in the rebirth of the world. </p><p> </p><p>He was pondering this comparison when he rounded a boulder and almost ran into her. She gasped in surprise, then upon recognizing him pressed a hand to her chest and cursed.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Shit</em>, you scared me!"</p><p> </p><p>"Apologies. I didn't hear you."</p><p> </p><p>"It's fine." He could see it wasn't. She was fidgeting, adjusting and readjusting a blanket she'd wrapped around herself, eyes wandering over the desert landscape, distracted.</p><p> </p><p>"I wanted to speak with you, actually."</p><p> </p><p>That made her pause her fidgeting and look at him. "Really? Why?"</p><p> </p><p>"I believe there's something you haven't considered about tomorrow."</p><p> </p><p>She blanched slightly. "Oh god, what? <em>What</em>, Solas?!"</p><p> </p><p>"Have you thought of what would be required should we still have to choose between Alistair and Hawke?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, <em>no</em>," her voice shook with worry. "No, because if we start thinking like that, there's a chance it'll happen. And it <em>can't</em>. Alistair <em>and</em> Hawke are making it back. We've planned everything, brought supplies, we're ready." She looked much less certain than she sounded.</p><p> </p><p>"Those plans were originally made when you <em>weren't</em> accompanying us. Your presence has added another factor that we haven't had time to consider."</p><p> </p><p>"If you're about to suggest I stay behind, the answer's no. I'm going into the Fade."</p><p> </p><p>"I was going to suggest no such thing."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, then what is it? Why are we talking about this?"</p><p> </p><p>"I've had time to mull over our plans as we journeyed here. I wanted to suggest another possibility, another choice, that we might run into."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Which is...?</em>" She was becoming annoyed with his vagaries.</p><p> </p><p>"If we are unsuccessful and arrive at the point where we would have to sacrifice either Alistair or Hawke, I believe there would be a third option: You."</p><p> </p><p>"Me? What about me?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>You</em> could choose to stay behind, give yourself to Nightmare to save the rest of us."</p><p> </p><p>"You've got to be fucking <em>joking</em>." Color returned to her face, splotchy and angry. "I know you're scared that I'm going to reveal your fucking secret, but telling me to throw myself at Nightmare 'just in case' is fucked up, <em>even for you</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Not at all. <em>Think</em>." He paused, making sure she was listening. "You've said it yourself: <em>You</em> don't belong here. You never have. Your very presence affects this world, and several times it's been in a nearly disastrous way. I'm not trying to suggest that this <em>must</em> happen, only that it <em>could</em>. And, if the moment comes down to it, the best option for someone to stay behind may very well be you."</p><p> </p><p>She shook with anger, her knuckles white as bone in the starlight. "Fine. <em>Fine</em>. You're not wrong. But I don't believe you're suggesting it out of the goodness of your heart. I think you'd feel a lot better, sleep a lot better at night, if I was <em>gone</em> and couldn't tell anyone about your plan to fuck over the entire world. Don't try to tell me otherwise. Even if you <em>do</em> think it's for the 'greater good' or some shit, you can't say that me <em>dying</em> with your secret wouldn't sweeten the deal for you."</p><p> </p><p>With great effort, he kept his features calm. She had seen through his ruse immediately, even if she didn't know the true source of the suggestion. "I won't deny it. But, as you just said, it's also for the greater good. You wanted to save them both. Your sacrifice might be one way you can achieve your goal."</p><p> </p><p>"Sacrifice. <em>Sacrifice</em>. You keep saying sacrifice instead of <em>slaughter</em>. Fine. Whatever."</p><p> </p><p>"Don't reject the suggestion just because of semantics."</p><p> </p><p>She stormed past him, catching his shoulder on hers and almost knocking him down with her force. He sneered at her, then stepped back in surprise as she whirled around to face him again.</p><p> </p><p>"You know what? If I'm going to fucking <em>die</em> tomorrow, which is abso-fucking-<em>lutely</em> what you're implying, then I've got some things to say to you."</p><p> </p><p>He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with an angry slash of her hand. "<em>No</em>. Whatever you're about to say, I've probably, <em>literally</em> heard it before. It's <em>your</em> turn. I told you that your whole fucking <em>plan</em> was just to ease your guilty conscience, and let me guess, you don't believe me, right? You think I'm exaggerating or I'm just fucking <em>wrong</em>? You've got your head shoved so far up your pompous, self-righteous <em>ass</em> that you can't see you're just as much of a hypocrite as the fucking gods you exiled."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Hypocrite</em>? You <em>dare-</em>"</p><p> </p><p>She drove her fist into his face. He fell back onto the sand, dazed, his cheek aching. "<em>SHUT. UP</em>." She held her hand, rubbing at the reddened knuckles. "Just fucking <em>shut up </em>and <em>listen</em> to someone else for once in your goddamn life!"</p><p> </p><p>He glared at her, feeling his cheek starting to swell, but stayed silent.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Good</em>. You're a fucking <em>hypocrite</em>, and I am more than <em>happy</em> to tell you why. Let's start with <em>corruption</em>. A great example of why you're a hypocrite: you fucking sneer at the fact that the Inquisition is corruptible, shake your head and say 'see this is why I should wipe out the world' while you are <em>actively</em> corrupting it. You're working <em>against</em> the people that you <em>disdain</em> for being <em>corruptible</em> by <em>corrupting</em> them. You say you want to go back to the old world, to Elvhenan, because it's <em>purer</em> or some shit? 'Things were so much better in the old world,' right? But <em>you're</em> from the old world, and here you are, <em>corrupting</em> shit. And, speaking of old-ass elves, wasn't corruption and working against 'the people' what you exiled the fucking Elven gods for in the first place?"</p><p> </p><p>"I-" He tried to interrupt her again, but she shouted over him.</p><p> </p><p>"What the <em>fuck</em> makes you think you can bring back a world that <em>you know was full of corruption</em> and say it won't be corrupted <em>a second time</em>? Or are you assuming it's going to be 'incorruptible' because those gods will still be exiled or whatever and <em>you</em>, who, again, <em>is currently leading the active corruption of the Inquisition</em>, will be 'incorruptible' in the new-old world? Or are you just letting your <em>rampant narcissism</em> convince you that you can 'resist' corruption? You're not immune to corruption, not when you're already doing it <em>so fucking easily</em>. <em>Hypocrite</em>."</p><p> </p><p>He bristled with anger. "This is not how the world is supposed to be! I destroyed what it was, made it turn into something unnatural, but I can undo my mistake, set it back to right."</p><p> </p><p>"Set it back to what <em>you</em> think is right! Set it back to what <em>you</em> think is natural! At least the first time everyone <em>stayed alive</em>.Everyone who <em>had been</em> alive <em>still was</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"They weren't themselves anymore!"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>SO FUCKING WHAT?!</em> At least they were <em>alive</em>! They went through changes, yeah, and <em>so fucking what</em>? <em>Everyone</em> does, even if they're immortal! <em>Nature</em> does, and <em>nature's '</em>natural,' right? At least they got to survive the first time you fucked up the world! This? This whole thing that you <em>and only you</em> wants to do? This is going to be <em>fucking extinction</em>. <em>You</em> want to <em>MURDER </em>everyone on this entire fucking <em>planet</em> because <em>YOU</em> want to bring back <em>your</em> world and you don't give a single flaming <em>shit</em> that you'll have to <em>kill everyone and everything </em>to do it. We've got a religion back home, single god depending on how you read it, and you know what he did? He constantly wiped out people, and wiped out the entire world at least once, because he wanted a fucking <em>do-over</em>. <em>You</em> want a fucking <em>do-over</em>, but, let me guess, you're <em>definitely</em> not calling <em>yourself</em> a god, not like those shitty gods that you exiled. You're <em>definitely</em> not a god, just the only one who gets to decide the entire fate of the fucking world, judge, jury, and executioner. Do you think if you shed some crocodile tears while swinging the axe down on this world's neck that they'll <em>forgive</em> you for the extinction of <em>everything</em>? Fine, sure, keep telling yourself that the extinction of every animal, every plant, every living and breathing creature, every elf, dwarf, human, Qunari, mage, peasant, noble, warrior, <em>PERSON</em> is ‘the right thing to do.’ Why do <em>you</em> get to decide that <em>your</em> decision is the only one that matters, you goddamn, motherfucking, selfish, stubborn, stuck-up, pompous, cowardly <em>ASS?!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm the only one who remembers what it was like before," Solas said through gritted teeth.</p><p> </p><p>"And that makes you the fucking <em>king of everything</em>, huh? That whatever <em>you</em> decide just <em>has</em> to be the right decision, because <em>there's no way you could be wrong</em>. Not like you were <em>the FIRST time</em>. But, let me guess, you don't actually think you were wrong about the first time, right? It 'had to be done,' just like this 'has to be done?'"</p><p> </p><p>He shook with rage. "In the pursuit of righting my past wrongs, sacrifices must be made, as regrettable as that is."</p><p> </p><p>“Wow. <em>Regrettable</em>. Not even 'tragic' or 'catastrophic,' huh, just <em>regrettable</em>. You know, it sounds nicer, doesn't it? And 'sacrifice' <em>really</em> sounds a lot nicer than <em>murder</em>, right? 'Sacrifice, for the greater good,' instead of 'murder, because I fucked up.' You know who's not getting counted in that <em>sacrifice</em>, Solas? <em>You</em>. It's so much <em>easier</em> to burn the world and call it a sacrifice when <em>you</em> aren't roasting in the flames with it. No, you get to stand on the outside and pat yourself on the back for the 'selfless' thing you did, sacrificing <em>everyone else</em> for 'the greater good.' And that 'greater good' is getting what <em>you</em> want. Fuck the <em>millions</em> of people you have to <em>murder</em> to get your way, right? They're not in charge of the world, after all, <em>you</em> are. It's all <em>for the best</em>. It's all <em>for the greater good</em>."</p><p> </p><p>She turned on her heel, pulling the blanket tightly around her. "You know," she said over her shoulder, "It’s kind of hard to see it as the ‘greater good’ when everyone who makes up the ‘greater’ part of it doesn't get to say whether it’s ‘good’ or not. Just <em>you</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>"Bringing back Elvhenan is the right thing to do," he whispered.</p><p> </p><p>"Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Great chat, Solas. Goodnight, and go fuck yourself."</p><p> </p><p>He stayed sitting on the sand long after she disappeared around the side of the boulder.</p><p> </p><p>After what felt like an eternity, he pressed a hand to his cheek, casting some healing magic, then stood up and brushed himself off.</p><p> </p><p>He checked the position of the stars in the sky. Less than an hour had passed since he left camp.</p><p> </p><p>Halea was waiting for him.</p><p> </p><p>He turned his back on the tents and firelight of the camp and went towards the canyons again.</p><p> </p><p>He had much to think about.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0050"><h2>50. That One Scene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You know the one.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Alistair~<br/>--------<br/>~Halea~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite its best efforts, the cold had wormed its way into the tent. Alistair had shrugged his clothing back on and climbed underneath a few more layers of the mattress' blankets to find some warmth. It would do for now. It would be much more pleasant with Salome back. It'd definitely be warmer with her under the blankets as well, he imagined. Their bodies nestled together, his arms around her, her breath against his neck. He'd heard that many people had survived freezing cold by laying nude together, something about body heat, of course. Perhaps, when she returned, they could find out if this was true together. In fact, just thinking about it made him feel all the warmer.</p><p> </p><p>But she had been gone a long while, much longer than it should have taken her to find the latrine or some other spot. Perhaps she became distracted, or needed more time. She had said something about 'needing to take care of herself' earlier in the evening.</p><p> </p><p>He felt warmer again.</p><p> </p><p>But surely she shouldn't have taken <em>this</em> long. He crawled out from the layers of blankets, cursing the chill, and started to undo the ties of the tent flap. He had just undone the last one when he heard her boots approach.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm back," he heard her say with a little sniffle. He held the tent flap open for her as she ducked into the tent, sitting down in front of him to take her boots off.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm glad you made it, I'd started wondering if a hyena or quillback had gotten you!" She sniffled again, rubbing her nose on the blanket she had taken with her, and pulled her feet into the tent. She started redoing the ties on the tent, but he noticed her hands shaking, and her sniffling became worse, not better, now that she was out of the elements. "Salome? What's wrong?"</p><p> </p><p>She was struggling with the tent ties, growing frustrated. He reached his arms around her, his hands going to the ties, taking over for her. She leaned back into his chest as he tied the tent flap closed, her hands limp in her lap, the knuckles on one red and irritated. He finished the last tie, then wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close.</p><p> </p><p>"What's wrong?" He asked her again.</p><p> </p><p>"I punched Solas."</p><p> </p><p>"You <em>punched</em> Solas?" She nodded. "Did he deserve it?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>I</em> think he did."</p><p> </p><p>"Then he must have." He lifted her injured hand. "And by the looks of it, you gave him a sound hit." He gently kissed her bruised knuckles and her fingers curled around his.</p><p> </p><p>"It definitely caught him by surprise." She gave a small, mirthless laugh.</p><p> </p><p>He knew something was wrong, but he didn't know what. Something between her and Solas. "Do you want to talk about it?"</p><p> </p><p>"No." She turned herself so she could burrow into him, her cheek pressed into his chest. She sighed. "I just want to curl up under a bunch of blankets with you and go to sleep."</p><p> </p><p>"Are you sure? I've been told I snore. Quite loudly, in fact."</p><p> </p><p>"Good. You'll keep the hyenas away."</p><p> </p><p>He kissed the top of her head. "Then we should get to sleep. There's a lot to do tomorrow."</p><p> </p><p>She nodded, and he held up the layers of blankets so she could get under them. He joined her, wrapping her up in his arms, her arms holding him in return.</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p> </p><p>She paused for a long while, but he waited. There was something there, something she needed to say, she just had to trust him, as he had trusted her.</p><p> </p><p>"If this goes wrong...it'll be my fault...if you guys don't come back...it'll be because of me." She buried herself in his arms, her voice muffled by his chest. "I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow..."</p><p> </p><p>He stroked her back and kissed the top of her head again. "Then we'll go cluelessly into tomorrow together."</p><p> </p><p>"Promise me you'll make it back here, no matter what." She looked up at him, her eyes a little pink from needing to sleep, or cry, or both.</p><p> </p><p>"I want to promise you everything in Thedas, Salome. But I've learned to never promise anyone anything the night before a battle. Not a stranger, a fellow Warden, or even the beautiful woman I love. Because, if something <em>does</em> go wrong, then I'll leave behind a broken promise that I won't be around to beg forgiveness for."</p><p> </p><p>She buried her face in his chest again. "Even if it'll make me feel better?"</p><p> </p><p>"It won't. Trust me." She sighed and he held her tighter. "I wish it could. Could I offer you a kiss instead?"</p><p> </p><p>She looked up at him again. He melted, drowning in her deep brown eyes, the warmth of her in his arms, her spices-and-flowers scent. She tilted her chin up and his lips met hers, softly nuzzling each other while interwoven arms and legs tightened together.</p><p> </p><p>She fell asleep before he did, and he knew that if they stayed <em>this</em> intertwined they would both wake up with odd aches and pains. He carefully rearranged them, holding her much as she had held him after their intimacy. He looked at her as he held her, smiling a little. He might snore, but she definitely drooled in her sleep. Just a little. The stain it would make on his sleeve would be worth holding her for the rest of the night. He closed his eyes, and a few moments later began snoring.</p><p> </p><p><em>Loudly</em>.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Halea was pissed. Solas had made her wait for over <em>three</em> hours. She hadn't followed after him, or gone looking for him after the first hour. She knew how much he needed to wander and roam. To be free.</p><p> </p><p>But <em>three</em> <em>hours</em> was too much.</p><p> </p><p>She jogged lightly across the sand, scanning for him. She finally spied him just beyond the boulders that made the small canyons their camp was in, the desert open before him. He sat on a lone rock, looking for all the world like an abandoned child who was adrift in a bone-white sea.</p><p> </p><p>She walked up to the rock and sat next to him, the slight turn of his head the only acknowledgement that she was there.</p><p> </p><p>"You've been out here for three hours," she said, staring angrily at the sky ahead of her.</p><p> </p><p>"Have I? It seems I've lost track of the time." Out of the side of her eye, she watched him stare up at the star-filled sky. He seemed fine, which pissed her off more. But it was late, too late to be mad at him when they had to be ready to fight Wardens and demons tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>"Solas, why don't we head back to camp and go to bed?"</p><p> </p><p>He turned to her suddenly, and her heart stopped. His features were twisted with anguish, and fright, and panic. He had such a look of despair and fear on his face that he was almost unrecognizable. This wasn't the restrained scholar, or the long-simmering lover she was used to. This wasn't the man of intelligence and confidence that she knew almost as well as herself.</p><p> </p><p>This was a man who was <em>scared</em>, and his fear sent ice through her veins.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Solas</em>, what's...what's <em>wrong</em>?" She tried to say it calmly, to be the serenity to his panic. She must not have been able to hide her own worry, because his face twisted even more with yet another new feature: shame.</p><p> </p><p>He turned away from her, leaning down to hold his head in his hands, hunched over as if in pain. </p><p> </p><p>If she had been able to hear the thoughts swirling like a hurricane inside of him, she would have heard Salome's voice, thick with venom, repeating over and over in his head.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'You're just as much of a hypocrite as the fucking gods you exiled...'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'What the fuck makes you think you can bring back a world that you know was full of corruption and say it won't be corrupted a second time?'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'You're not immune to corruption, not when you're already doing it so fucking easily.'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Hypocrite.'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Why do you get to decide that your decision is the only one that matters?'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'It's so much easier to burn the world and call it a sacrifice when you aren't roasting in the flames with it...'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Fuck the millions of people you have to murder to get your way, right? They're not in charge of the world, after all, you are. It's all for the best.'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'...Everyone who makes up the ‘greater’ part of it doesn't get to say whether it’s ‘good’ or not. Just you.'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Hypocrite.'</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Halea reached her hand out, gently placing it on his back. "Solas..."</p><p> </p><p>"What would you do with me, Halea, if you knew I wasn't a good man?" His voice was strained, as if even speaking was painful.</p><p> </p><p>He often asked odd questions. Usually about the Fade, or about customs he wasn't familiar with. But he had rarely voiced doubts about himself, and never, <em>ever</em> his fear.</p><p> </p><p>This was his fear talking, not Solas.</p><p> </p><p>"What would you do?" He asked again, voice straining more, panic barely kept at bay.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't understand." Her answer seemed to make him hunch over more, curl more into himself. "What do you mean 'if you weren't a good man?'"</p><p> </p><p>His breaths became shallower and too fast, panic edging past his own defenses. He was breathing too rapidly to answer her.</p><p> </p><p>Halea had seen this before, in a few of the members of her clan. If she didn't calm him down, he'd pass out. She kept her hand on his back and placed the other one on his chest, just to the side of his heart. She leaned close to him, so their sides touched, and she began to breathe. Her breath was a steady rhythm to the flutter of his own, but slowly, so slowly that Halea thought it hadn't worked, his breathing started to slow. The steady sound of her breath, and the touch of her ribs expanding and contacting evenly, influenced his own body to match hers.</p><p> </p><p>He was breathing more steadily, still a little fast but much better than the frantic rhythm of a few moments ago. He sat up a little, his hands falling to his knees. With the hand that she had placed on his chest, she reached out and cupped his cheek. He covered her hand with his, pressing his face into her palm as if trying to staunch a rapidly bleeding wound.</p><p> </p><p>Once his breathing had slowed a bit more, Halea asked him again. She was risking upsetting him, but she had to know what what going on. "Solas, what did you mean when you said 'if you weren't a good man?'"</p><p> </p><p>"What makes a man 'good?' Is it fighting for what he believes? Fighting to defend others? Fighting to right past wrongs?" His voice kept trying to race ahead of his breath, and he had to make an effort to speak slowly. "What if the very things that make a man 'good' make him 'evil' in others' eyes? When does heroism turn into villainy?"</p><p> </p><p>"You think you're a villain?" She was trying to follow along, but this was all so foreign, so different from how he usually was, it was hard for her to understand what was happening.</p><p> </p><p>"Some may see me as such." His eyes flicked to hers, very briefly.</p><p> </p><p>"But what do <em>you</em> think?"</p><p> </p><p>"I...I do not know." His features had been untwisting, settling back into his more familiar expressions of thoughtfulness or concentration, but started twisting back into despair. "I believe in my cause with my entire being. Everything I do is to right wrongs I have made in the past, no matter how long it takes me. To make atonement to the countless masses that have suffered because of me."</p><p> </p><p>Suffered? Solas was an elven apostate, a hermit, wandering around in the woods and fields. How many people could one hermit hurt?</p><p> </p><p>His breath hitched, and he pressed his cheek into her palm harder, almost to the point of pain. "But what if <em>I'm</em> wrong? What if all the good I've set out to do, all the atonement I've been striving for, is <em>wrong</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"Who cares?"</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>"I said, <em>who cares</em>?" She placed her other hand on his other cheek, turning him so that he had to face her fully. "Do <em>you</em> believe what you're doing is good, is right?" He nodded his head. "Then who cares what anyone else thinks?"</p><p> </p><p>"Halea, you don't understand..."</p><p> </p><p>"And I'm getting the feeling that you're not going to explain it to me." He nodded his head again, eyes closing briefly in shame. "Well, who gets to say that whatever you're up to is <em>bad</em>? Doesn't 'good' and 'bad,' 'right' and 'wrong' depend on who's talking?"</p><p> </p><p>"You're saying it's subjective?" Finally, a word that belonged in an academy instead of a desert. He was coming back to himself.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm saying things look different depending on who gets to explain them. A wolf hunting a Halla might look wrong to someone who lives in a city, but it looks right to anyone who knows a thing or two about nature. At the end of the day, the wolf gets fed and the Halla returns to the earth, but it's the people on the outside who define it as 'good' or 'bad,' when it just...<em>is</em>."</p><p> </p><p>He nodded his head slowly, thinking, his breath almost back to normal. "Which means that some actions just <em>are</em>? They can be done without being defined as 'good' or 'bad' when the truth of it is that they must be done no matter what an outside observer determines...Yes, of course." He sat up straight, and his shoulders relaxed. He stared into Halea's violet eyes, and she could see the relief washing over him, leaving calm behind. "Thank you. You've helped me more than you know. Although I am sorry that you had to see me in such a state."</p><p> </p><p>"You had me worried," she said, a tentative smile touching her lips. "I'm glad I came to find you. You shouldn't have to go through something like that alone."</p><p> </p><p>He wrapped his hands around hers, lowering them from his face, but not before kissing the palm of the hand he had held for dear life. She was sure there would be a bruise there tomorrow without some healing magic, but an odd-shaped bruise from his chin was worth helping him through an emotional storm.</p><p> </p><p>"I hope to never have to again."</p><p> </p><p>"Never go through a 'state' like that, or be alone?"</p><p> </p><p>"Both." He held her hands to his chest, and she felt the trembling throughout his body. He was exhausted, even if he refused to say so. Of course he was, he had just gone through what must have been a crisis of faith - faith in himself - and needed rest.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll always be here for you, Solas." She helped him stand, wrapping an arm around his waist and helping him walk back towards camp. "Let's get back to camp and go to bed. Tomorrow's a big day."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, it is." She smiled at the determination in his voice. She loved him. Even in the middle of his emotional storm, she loved him. But she especially loved to see him like this. Determined. Confident. Resolute.</p><p> </p><p>With the two of them by each other's side, they could face the world and win.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0051"><h2>51. Mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Are you sure you remembered...everything?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake up first. It's just barely light outside, and the tiny bit of sun that's probably peeking over the horizon already starts heating up the desert. The sun, the layers of blankets, the body heat trapped under the blankets, it all makes it too hot for me to sleep anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair's still asleep. I move my head, feeling the linen fabric of his sleeve tug away from the dried crusts of drool that had glued it to my face. Gross. I really hope he fell asleep <em>before</em> I started drooling.</p><p> </p><p>And he wasn't kidding about the snoring, holy <em>fuck</em>. He is <em>loud</em>, deeply inhaling and exhaling through his nose, even though his mouth is slightly open. How did his snoring <em>not</em> wake me up?!</p><p> </p><p>I <em>really</em> want him to wake up soon. We had a good time last night, and I'd like us to have a good time this morning <em>before</em> everyone else wakes up and comes looking for us or some other story-trope shit. </p><p> </p><p><em>Before</em> we have to go off and fight in a battle that could kill all of us.</p><p> </p><p>But his face is completely serene, sleeping like a log even though we're about to head straight for the Fade and probably death today. And I can't break that serenity, not yet. So even though it gets hotter every second thanks to the goddamn sun, even though he's snoring loud enough to cause an avalanche if we were anywhere near snow, I tuck my head underneath his chin, scooting my body closer to his. I press my cheek up against his chest, feeling the rise and fall underneath all that godawful snoring. His arms lazily collapse and curl, adjusting to my new position without waking him.</p><p> </p><p>I am sweaty, eardrums bombarded with snore explosions, definitely in need of a shower (both of us), and scared as fuck, trying to hide under blankets in a tent on the top of a boulder in the desert in the arms of my once-fictional dream guy and stupidly hoping that today doesn't happen.</p><p> </p><p>That fucking Author.</p><p> </p><p>That <em>bastard</em>. That <em>ASSHOLE</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't <em>my</em> fault that it started rotting. It's "The <em>Author,</em>" it should have <em>known </em>that could happen!</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...'I should have known'...?</em> </strike>
</p><p><strike></strike>No.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>NO.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...Do not fret yet....S A L O M E...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Get out of my head, you fuck,</em>" I whisper. I wish I sounded angry. I just sound scared.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...I wanted to tell you something...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...something I M P O R T A N T...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...what was it...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>This piece of shit is <em>taunting</em> me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...ah...yes, well...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p><strike></strike>I can feel it, fucking <em>feel it</em>, pause. It said its fucking catchphrase or whatever, and it pauses like an audible shiver. The pause sounds like a smile. A smile from a rotten gooey puddle that's turning back into a hairy ball of pretentious tentacles called 'its old self.'</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...so very rude...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...ah, yes, well...but not untrue...I am returning to myself...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...ah, yes, well...back to my message...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...Salome...S A L O M E...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>"<em>What do you want, you crazy fuck</em>," I whisper. Alistair's snoring has faded into the background. All I can hear is The Author and I would give anything, <em>anything</em> to hear just his snores.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...ahhhhhhhhh, yes, well.....</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...you've forgotten...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Forgotten</em> <em>what?!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...ah, yes, well...you've forgotten...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...Erimond...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...and...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...all the blood magic...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...and...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em><strong>...all those Warden-bound demons</strong><strong>...</strong></em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p><strike></strike>I can feel it pause again. If it had a mouth, it'd be smiling.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>...you've forgotten so much...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <strike> <em>...S A L O M E...</em> </strike> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p><span class="u"></span> <strike> <em>...have you actually helped them at all?</em> </strike></p><p> </p><p><strike></strike>"<em>What do you mean? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!</em>" I still whisper, but my throat gets tight, my heart pounds, and my sweating has nothing to do with the rising heat anymore.</p><p> </p><p>What did I forget?</p><p> </p><p>What if I forgot something important and everyone's going to die?</p><p> </p><p>What's going to happen?!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What did I forget?!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I feel a hand on my jaw, crushing my face with intense strength.</p><p> </p><p>The hand forces my head up so I look at Alistair.</p><p> </p><p>Because it's Alistair's hand. Alistair's fingers digging into my cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>And it's Alistair's face I'm forced to look at.</p><p> </p><p>Those aren't his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Because <em>his</em> eyes don't have black veins in them, wiggling and curling around, moving across his eyeballs like fucking snakes.</p><p> </p><p><strike><em><strong>"DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU WOULD SAVE THEM?"</strong></em></strike> </p><p> </p><p>That's not Alistair's voice coming through that mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Because <em>his</em> voice isn't made of metal scratching across glass, high-pitched and deafening.</p><p> </p><p>That's not Alistair's face.</p><p> </p><p>Because <em>his</em> face wouldn't look at me with feral contempt like this, like he'd won the prize and the prize was getting to fucking <em>murder</em> me. <em>His</em> smile isn't this sharp, this cruel, this wide.</p><p> </p><p>From between the lips that form that hideous smile, I see those same black veins, writhing and curling and poking out farther, searching for something to grab.</p><p> </p><p>The tendrils come from everywhere all at once and I fucking <em>scream</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I kick and claw and punch and shove the darkness, trying to get out, but it's got me and I'm going to die <em>I'm going to-</em></p><p> </p><p>Bright light's suddenly everywhere and I'm gasping, sweaty all over, so fucking <em>hot</em>. Alistair's still snoring. I'm still tucked into him. It's getting hotter every second, the sun rising higher and higher.</p><p> </p><p>Getting closer to go off into battle.</p><p> </p><p>Closer to go straight into a fucking bloodbath.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair's snores get interrupted as he jerks a little, waking up. His eyes blink, and he closes his slightly-open mouth into a smile. A <em>real</em> smile. <em>His</em> smile.</p><p> </p><p>"Can I just tell you how wonderful it feels to wake up with you in my arms?" He closes his eyes again and wraps his arms around me, settling so that our bodies fit together like sleepy puzzle pieces, his chin resting on top of my head. "Not so much a fan of feeling like I'm roasting in an oven, though. Maker, it's hot, what time is it?"</p><p> </p><p>I feel his head swivel a little, probably looking at the canvas, trying to decide how high the sun is.</p><p> </p><p>I've got my eyes screwed shut, because I'm trying not to fucking <em>lose it</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Salome?"</p><p> </p><p><em>Fuck</em>, why couldn't he have ignored me for just a few more seconds! A few more seconds and I would have been put together enough to be fine.</p><p> </p><p>But <em>no</em>. He says my name, <em>just my fucking name</em>, and it starts. The crying. The ugly crying. The sobbing or weeping or whatever the <em>fuck</em> you want to call it, the kind of crying that just screams 'Hey! I almost led everyone to a horrible slaughter!'</p><p> </p><p>He freezes, not sure of what's happening. I bury myself in his chest, my arms trying to pull him in tighter. He puts his arms around me slowly and holds me.</p><p> </p><p>It's too hot in this fucking tent but I need him to hold me, or I'll fucking explode into a thousand pieces and never get put back together.</p><p> </p><p>"Salome?" He asks again, hugging me a little tighter. The pressure of being pushed against his chest starts to help calm me down. Or the pressure plus the heat means I'm not getting enough oxygen to my brain, which would still end up calming me down so that's fucking fine by me.</p><p> </p><p>"Plan's not gonna work." My voice is high and strained and I say it too fast.</p><p> </p><p>"Of course it'll work, we've thought of everything."</p><p> </p><p><em>"No we haven't!"</em> I'd love to just accept that kind of confident reassurance, but I can't, especially because he has no clue how fucked we could have been, might still be. "It's not gonna work. I didn't remember enough!"</p><p> </p><p>"Salome..." He sounds worried and I don't blame him, I blame me, because it's all my fucking fault, and I need him to understand that I don't mean that in the moral or philosophical sense, I mean it <em>literally</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>, Alistair, I'm <em>serious</em>, I didn't remember everything! I just got a visit from that fucking Author in my brain, a nightmare or vision or whatever, and he taunted me, said there were things I forgot and that I'm just going to lead all of us to get fucking slaughtered!"</p><p> </p><p>He's still holding me tight and sweet and he's too good for me to be freaking out like this at him but the other option is to go straight for a massacre that no one will walk out of and I don't want him or anyone else to die and shit, shit, <em>shit</em>, <em>shit, SHIT</em>!</p><p> </p><p>He takes a deep breath. And another. And another. And I start breathing with him and then he's calmed me down even though I'm still crying.</p><p> </p><p>"So. Seems like we need breakfast and a meeting to completely rework our plan?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry," I say, snot and tears finally, fucking <em>finally</em>, beginning to stop.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry for what, having this Author bastard drop by in your mind to taunt you? That doesn't seem like it could be helped."</p><p> </p><p>"I wanted to spend the morning like we spent the night, now there's no goddamn <em>time</em>." He inhales quickly, like he hadn't even thought about it. I'd thought about it all last night while we fell asleep. I couldn't <em>wait</em> for this morning to go for round two, and now we can't because of that asshole, that mother<em>fucker</em>, that <em>bastard</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh...are you <em>sure </em>the fate of all existence can't wait? Not even for, I dunno, an hour? How about half an hour? Fifteen minutes?" I know he's not actually suggesting or expecting it (he's offering and hopeful, just in case). He wants to make me laugh, and I do, half-choking on snot and frustration. He sighs, over-dramatic, hamming it up. "Fine, if the fate of all existence is really <em>that</em> important, we'll just have to get up and go take care of it."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The others don't take it nearly as well.</p><p> </p><p>"So all of that planning we did has been for nothing?" Hawke crosses his arms and shakes his head in disbelief. "All of these supplies, these weapons, these tactics, and now you're telling us that what's waiting for us is something completely different?"</p><p> </p><p>"She doesn't know," Blackwall grumbles, and the disappointment in his voice hurts more than I could have ever guessed it would. I almost start tearing up.</p><p> </p><p>"Tell us what it said again, Freckles," Varric says before Hawke can open his mouth to reply to Blackwall.</p><p> </p><p>"He mentioned 'Erimond,' 'Warden-bound demons,' and 'blood magic.' I think 'Erimond' is a person, but I'm not sure."</p><p> </p><p>"Of <em>course</em> you're not sure! Why would you be?" Hawke starts pacing, agitated. "We've taken you at your word, and now you tell us your word might not be correct. Not that you're <em>lying</em>, no, because <em>then</em> we could still get the truth out of you one way or another. No, you're 'not sure' and you just 'don't remember.' That about sum it up?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hawke..." My voice is shaky. I wish I could take Alistair's hand, or that Cole were here. Fuck, I'd even take Princesa Pepps or Boggy. But I've got to stand alone, because <em>I'm</em> the one who fucked up. I can't drag anyone else down with me. Not even a fat cat or a badass undead horse. "I know the blood magic part is bad -"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>All </em>of it is 'bad,' Salome. The demons, the blood magic, this Author being able to get into your head, and, the coup de grace, your memory. It's <em>all</em> bad." Hawke turns to Halea. "Did you know about this, Inquisitor?"</p><p> </p><p>Halea's looking at me carefully. "Did I know about the blood magic? No."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Inquisitor</em>, did you know about this girl's <em>memory</em>, or the fact that the Author <em>can talk to her in her mind? </em>How are you so sure she didn't make this 'Author' up?!"</p><p> </p><p>Halea's leaning up against the Requisitions Table at the campsite, staring at me. At this point, if she decided to leave me to die in the desert, I wouldn't blame her.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke turns around, mouth open, ready to yell at me again when Halea holds her hand up. "Yes, Hawke, I knew about her memory not being perfect. She told me about it long before you came to Skyhold. She said that she knew things, but that she could be wrong and we should check into what she says when we can. She was honest with me. And she's not making the Author up." Halea looks down at her hand, at the Anchor, and her voice gets quiet. "That thing didn't show up until she tried to tell us what she knew about Nightmare. If you had been there, if you had felt how much power it took just to get it to let go of her, you'd know she wasn't lying about that, either."</p><p> </p><p>Hawke crosses his arms again, staring at me skeptically, but doesn't argue with Halea.</p><p> </p><p>"We shouldn't move forward without taking this new knowledge into consideration," Solas says calmly. His cheek doesn't look swollen, so maybe he healed himself. He doesn't look at me. I still don't regret punching him, but I rub at my knuckles, which are definitely bruised.</p><p> </p><p>"I agree," Halea says with a nod of her head. "But we shouldn't waste the chance to scout again, now that we know more. Hawke, Alistair, did you notice anything else in the Western Approach that we should check out?"</p><p> </p><p>Hawke shrugs, but Alistair moves towards a map on the Requisitions Table. "There's the ruins of some kind of Tevinter ritual tower here," he says, pointing to where it's located on the map. "I didn't tell you this, Hawke, but I noticed a few lights coming from there the last time we were here. I originally thought they were campfires, from other travelers passing through, but it could be worth looking into."</p><p> </p><p>Halea nods, her fingers tracing a route from the Lost Spring Canyon camp towards where Alistair pointed on the map. "Okay, so change of plans: we scout out this location, see what's there, and then we regroup and figure out how to adjust our attack."</p><p> </p><p>"It may be wise to consider regrouping at Skyhold," Solas says. "In the likely event that our plans change drastically, we will possibly need different supplies than the ones we currently have. Skyhold would be the best place to ensure that we are able to obtain what we need."</p><p> </p><p>Halea pauses, but Blackwall jumps in. "I agree. We'll need more information on the things the Author mentioned. If 'Erimond' is a person, I'm sure Leliana or Josephine could find out who they are." He blushes, just a little, just a <em>fraction</em>, when he says Josephine's name.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, it's settled." Halea taps the map again. "We scout out the tower ruins, then head back to Skyhold."</p><p> </p><p>"What about me?" I hold my head up high when all eyes turn back on me. As much as I'd love everyone to forget about me and maybe go back to normal, I know it's not going to work like that. That strategy hasn't worked in family fights, friendship shitshows, or job disasters. It definitely won't work now. "What do you want me to do?"</p><p> </p><p>Halea looks at me again, sizing me up, probably going to tell me to wait here or some shit. She'll probably leave me at Skyhold when we go back. Which will be directly <em>against</em> what the Author wants but would be so <em>fucking</em> typical for this kind of scenario.</p><p> </p><p>"You're coming, too." Everyone's eyes whip to Halea's face, and I'm just as fucking <em>floored</em> as they are that she still wants me to come with them. "You said up-front that your memory isn't perfect, but you've been able to remember some things, and other things have helped trigger your memory. Plus, we all need to look out for each other if there are demons running around loose, and we can use all the help we can get."</p><p> </p><p>Everyone goes to get their equipment, Hawke grumbling while he gets his armor and sword. Halea motions to me and walks towards a tall tent.</p><p> </p><p>"I stored both our stuff in here, so we could talk," she says, pushing aside the flap into the tent. Really, it's kind of like a pavilion with canvas walls, and I'm glad I don't have to wriggle around on my ass just to get my armor on inside of a sleeping tent.</p><p> </p><p>"Talk about what?" Because if it's about my shitty memory, I don't have anything else to offer her.</p><p> </p><p>"I wanted to talk to you about Solas," she says quietly, like she doesn't want anyone to overhear us.</p><p> </p><p>Well, <em>shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She motions towards a table set up in the tent, with two packs on it, mine and hers. She starts taking out her armor and spreading it out on the table. I mimic her, hoping she can't see me sweating. Then again, if she did, it'd be chalked up to how goddamn <em>hot</em> it was. The sun makes every tent its own little oven.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, yeah?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah..." She goes quiet as we both start changing and getting into our gear. "He was out in the desert last night. By himself. He was sitting on a rock looking at the sky."</p><p> </p><p>"Is that weird?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, but...he was..." She fidgets with one of her buckles. "He was having some kind of crisis, a crisis of faith, I think, or of the spirit. Something really upset him."</p><p> </p><p>So maybe my speech actually <em>did</em> make an impact...at least as much as my fist did.</p><p> </p><p>"He kept asking me what I would do if he 'wasn't a good man.'"</p><p> </p><p>"Really?"</p><p> </p><p>She nods her head. "He kept saying things about 'righting past wrongs' and being a villain and all of these other really confusing things. And he was worried that people might not think he was a good person, or that he might be making mistakes..."</p><p> </p><p>This is all very good news, at least to me, but I see the worried look on her face and try to contain myself. "Oh. That sounds tough. What did you say to him?"</p><p> </p><p>Halea sits down on a chair next to the table. "He's never done anything <em>bad</em> as far as I can tell. Maybe he could have gotten rebellious as a kid, stolen an apple or something, but he's so <em>principled</em> that I have a hard time imagining him actually doing something that he knew was <em>wrong</em>."</p><p> </p><p>If only she knew how much she's going to regret those words in a few years...</p><p> </p><p>Should I tell her? Now would probably be the best time, if I'm ever going to. Or is it still none of my business? It seemed like he was close to changing, if Halea was right and he had an existential crisis last night after I called him out on all his bullshit. Maybe if I could get him to see...</p><p> </p><p>And there I go again, trying to be the fucking <em>hero</em> when I'm <em>not</em>. I really need to leave the protagonist-ing to the <em>actual</em> protagonist. It's up to <em>Halea</em> to get him to see that he's wrong. So maybe I don't tell her just yet, but maybe I can guide her towards guiding him.</p><p> </p><p>A sneakier, shittier way of controlling her as a character, instead of seeing her as a person with thoughts and feelings and free will and-</p><p> </p><p>"Salome?" Oh, right, fuck. "Are you listening? I'm really worried about him."</p><p> </p><p>I blink like a total idiot for a few seconds, then look around for a chair. I see one and drag it next to hers. "Sorry, I got caught up thinking about something. You were saying you don't think he'd ever do something he knew was wrong?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah...What were you thinking about?" She looks at me, a little wary, like maybe she <em>shouldn't </em>be opening up to me right now, not if I'm not going to listen. But if I'm going to tell-but-not-tell her about Solas and that he needs to change, she's got to keep talking to me.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I talked to Solas last night. I ran into him, kind of literally, he was walking around the canyons and I was going back to the tent. I think he kept going for his walk after we finished talking. He didn't tell you about talking to me?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, he didn't mention it." Something flashes in her eyes, maybe distrust or jealousy or confusion, maybe towards me, maybe towards him. "What did you talk about?"</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, well, he mentioned that I might have to consider, possibly, running right into Nightmare's jaws myself if I <em>really</em> wanted to save both Alistair and Hawke."</p><p> </p><p>"He suggested <em>what?</em>" Her face moves to an angry look, but not angry at me, thank fuck.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. I mean, he said it more like he would say it, you know? 'You may have to consider the possibility' and 'these plans were made before you came along' kind of thing. And it's not like I don't think he's wrong, but it's still, like, it's-"</p><p> </p><p>"Super fucking rude?" My face makes Halea smile for just a second. "I've gotten kind of used to the way you talk. It's like getting used to talking to Sera." Her face quickly goes back to a disappointed and angry scowl. Very Cassandra-esque.</p><p> </p><p>"Right, uh, yeah, like I was saying, I don't think he's wrong. He made the point about how I'm not even supposed to <em>be</em> here, in this world, and maybe taking a go at being Nightmare's dinner would restore balance or something? I'm not sure. But I got really, <em>really</em> pissed at him. Like, I punched him. Sorry." I wince as I look over to her, but her scowl doesn't change. Apparently she doesn't give a single shit that I punched him. She looks like she wants to do the same, actually. "And then I yelled at him. A <em>lot</em>. Like, a <em>whole fucking</em> <em>lot</em>. So if that was before you ended up finding him..."</p><p> </p><p>"...That could be what caused him to panic." She nods her head slowly, scowl easing up a bit. "He told you to sacrifice yourself, and you didn't like that, for obvious reasons, so you told him off. Then I found him, and he was panicking about whether he was a good person or not..."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, makes sense." This is definitely not time to tell her about how I yelled at him for being a selfish hypocrite bent on destroying the world to make himself feel better. "But he seemed fine this morning?"</p><p> </p><p>"I calmed him down last night. I told him 'right' and 'wrong' all depend on who you're talking to, and-"</p><p> </p><p>"You <em>WHAT?!</em>" I yell. I can't stop myself from yelling it. She could have undone <em>all</em> the progress he had made in his existential crisis. I barely hold myself back from going on another yelling monologue spree.</p><p> </p><p>"I didn't know he told you to jump in front of Nightmare!" She holds her hands up, half-surrender, half-calm-the-fuck-down. She thinks I'm mad because she told him that it wasn't right or wrong to tell me to die. She doesn't know that I'm fucking <em>furious</em> because she told him it wasn't right or wrong <em>to blow up the entire fucking world and kill everyone</em>. "That's a pretty clear 'wrong' choice to me." She lowers her hands and shakes her head.</p><p> </p><p>I rub at the side of my face with both hands, completely fucking agitated. "How do you just tell someone something isn't right or wrong, there's <em>always</em> a right and a wrong!"</p><p> </p><p>She squints at me, then shakes her head again. "I'll tell it to you like I told him: imagine a wolf hunting a Halla-"</p><p> </p><p>"A <em>wolf</em>? Did you tell him a <em>wolf</em> metaphor? <em>Really</em>?" And then I start laughing. 'Insanity has descended upon me'-level laughing. She's confused about my zeroing in on the wolf thing and creeped out by my laughing, but it's just <em>too fucking good</em>. She used <em>a wolf metaphor</em> to tell <em>the wolf</em> that what he was doing wasn't 'right or wrong.'</p><p> </p><p>"Yes..." She clears her throat. "Um, a wolf killing a Halla for food isn't 'right' or 'wrong' by itself, it, uh, it depends on who's watching...?" She's still completely confused by my reaction.</p><p> </p><p>I stop laughing but little giggles keep popping up. "I'm sorry, sorry, I get what you're saying, I do, I just...fuck, a <em>wolf</em> metaphor! Jesus Christ." I massage my cheeks with my hands, trying to get the muscles to relax so I don't look totally insensitive.</p><p> </p><p>She's anger-blushing, and now I feel bad, and I've got to bring it back around. I reach over to the table and grab both of our boots, handing over hers and starting to put my boots on. "Halea, I really do get what you're trying to say. I even get what Solas was trying to say, kind of. If it came down to it, me sacrificing myself for Hawke and Alistair would look heroic, brave, all of those things that mean 'good' in one way or another. It would also kind of make sense. But just because something might make sense to someone doesn't mean it's the right thing to do."</p><p> </p><p>She nods, but looks distracted. Then I finally clue in on what's actually upsetting her. "<em>Halea.</em> Don't feel bad. Calming him down was probably a good idea at the time, given the info you had. If you'd known that he told me to die-" and if she'd known that I told him he was a selfish, world-destroying prick "-and you still calmed him down, then <em>that</em> would have been bad. I'm not mad at you."</p><p> </p><p>"But you're mad?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, kind of. More at him, though." And please, for the love of fuck, let's leave it at that. <em>Please</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She nods, lacing up her boots and standing. "You really punched him?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yep. I threw a right hook at his left cheekbone. Pretty sure my aim was dead on, because my knuckles hurt like hell today." I hold up my hand, and she raises her eyebrow again.</p><p> </p><p>She waves a glowing hand over my knuckles, erasing the bruises. "Maybe save the punching for actual enemies, okay? Can't have my crew throwing punches at each other the night before we're supposed to battle."</p><p> </p><p>"Fair point." I flex my hand, staring at it. "I don't know what's waiting out there for us, at the Tevinter tower thing."</p><p> </p><p>"We'll all find out together," Halea says with a little smile, holding aside the tent flap.</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair said the same thing..."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Right</em>! You have to tell me all about it!"</p><p> </p><p>"We're about to go scouting for demons and possessed Grey Wardens, and you want me to tell you how my night with Alistair went <em>right now</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"We'll just walk really slowly and take the long way around." She hooks her arm with mine and drags me towards the canyons. Apparently we really do have some time.</p><p> </p><p>Her excitement to hear about it makes me really happy, that dumb little giddy romantic part of me bubbling up like an annoying pop song, but I don't forget that she's using it as a diversion. I know she's got a lot to think about with Solas. But I go ahead and distract her.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, so it started with a charcuterie board under the stars..."</p><p> </p><p>We all need distractions.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry it took me so long to write this one! I've got to do a lot of researching for these upcoming chapters to get things just the way I want them and it's taking a lot of time. A lot of watching YouTube videos over and over again, a lot of loading a save, playing, then reloading the save again. You get it. Thanks for all your patience, and I hope that when the upcoming chapters go up, you'll think they were worth the wait! ~Breaker</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0052"><h2>52. Mini-Boss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A taste of what's to come.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Our group walks through sandy dirt, surrounded with dried-out grass and scrubby little bushes. There aren't any trees out here past Lost Spring Canyon.</p><p> </p><p>We pass by more carts, like the ones in the alcove near the camp. Dried blood paints its side and the sand below it. There's a corpse. I don't look close enough to see what state it's in.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">More carts and dead bodies...that's not good</span>," says Varric.</p><p> </p><p>"Anything to do with the Wardens?" Halea asks, tilting her head towards the carts.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not sure...but if the Author mentioned blood magic..." I am very specifically <em>not</em> looking at the corpse or the dried blood.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke mutters a curse. "A friend from Kirkwall once asked me, '<span class="u">what does magic touch that it doesn't spoil</span>?' I pitied him at the time, thought he wasn't seeing the whole picture. But I can understand what he felt, now." Hawke frowns, barely containing his anger and disgust. "Blood magic never comes to a good end."</p><p> </p><p>"Fenris, right?" Both Hawke and Varric look at me. Fenris' existence isn't a secret, it's just another ping in my memory, the words something that triggers that scene in my mind. "He'd just ripped a mage's heart out. He was probably talking about himself, too." I'm rambling, so I don't have to think about the corpse that we just keep standing near.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke's still angry with me, so he glares. He's probably mad that I'm talking at all, but I'm itching to get the fuck away from the corpse...</p><p> </p><p>"Let's move on," Halea says, marching ahead.</p><p> </p><p>I wonder if anyone'll bury the corpse after we leave.</p><p> </p><p>We walk along a high sandy ledge overlooking a ravine. Then we hear it. A deep, loud screech and the flap of wings in the air.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u"><em>SHIT! A HIGH DRAGON?!</em></span>" Varric shouts over its roars as it passes over our heads. It flies past a huge stone arch and behind some nasty-looking gas clouds. "Did <em>that</em> trigger anything, Freckles?!"</p><p> </p><p>"There's high dragons all over the place, don't get mad at me! They won't attack you if you don't go near their territory, just don't go near that area and you'll be <em>fine</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>"There's more than one here?!" Varric scans the skies, nervously gripping Bianca's stock. He keeps his finger off the trigger, but still close.</p><p> </p><p>"No, there's only one here, but there's one in the Hinterlands, I think there's three in Emprise du Leon...at least one in most of the major places."</p><p> </p><p>"Thedas is overrun with high dragons, and we're just now hearing about it?" Blackwall's almost stunned. "Isn't that something Leliana's spies should have reported?!"</p><p> </p><p>"We've got other things to worry about right now." I point across the ravine, towards some stone triangles that look like they're hidden behind the ravine's far ridge.</p><p> </p><p>We make our way down to another hidden pool of water at the base of the ravine, <span class="u">Lost Wash Creek</span>. We've got to climb up a rickety-as-<em>fuck </em>'staircase' to get to the top and the other side of the ravine. The boards are practically sideways, the stairs easy to slide off of, but we make it up.</p><p> </p><p>I catch my breath at the top, the heat and climb and leftover fear from the fucking 'stairs' winding me. Alistair waits with me while the others move ahead.</p><p> </p><p>"Not bad back there," he says, shielding his eyes from the sun and staring after our party.</p><p> </p><p>"What? The stairs? I almost fell off like eight fucking times, <em>fuck</em>!" I wipe at the sweat pouring into my eyes, and it immediately gets replaced by more sweat.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm glad you made it up the stairs, but I was talking about this morning. Standing in front of your party and admitting you were wrong takes a sort of courage that many lack."</p><p> </p><p>It feels like such a cliche, but it actually does make me feel better to hear him say that. I expected the grumbling and insults, shit, <em>I</em> would have been fucking pissed if it was someone else in my place. But, even if it's just because of romance or tropes or even algorithms, I feel so much better hearing him tell me I'm courageous.</p><p> </p><p>"I was pretty sure I was going to get left out in the desert to die," I say, straightening up.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair turns to me, dropping his hand and his slight smirk. "I wouldn't have let that happen."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh really? And how were you going to save me, hmm?" I try to put a smirk on, and instead it's a full-out smile. He said he'd save me, and I fully believe him. Fuck, I didn't get to say that about <em>any</em> partner I've ever had.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I could have conscripted you for the Grey Wardens." The smirk flashes over his face before he goes serious again. "<span class="u">Such as they are</span>. Or, will be, depending on how all <em>this</em> turns out." He shakes his head, halfway between angry and sad, then straightens his shoulders and sighs. "I'd have put off your Joining for a while, though. Just in case."</p><p> </p><p>I wipe more sweat off my face and gesture up the sandstone hill. We start walking towards where the party went off to. "Well, I love you, Alistair, Grey Warden or otherwise."</p><p> </p><p>He veers so he bumps into me and grins. It's too hot for kisses or hugs or even holding hands, but a bump and a smile works in the scorching heat. "And <em>I</em> love <em>you</em>, but that's the last one you get until we both get out of the Fade alive. I know that's been bothering you."</p><p> </p><p>"The fate of the world? Bothering <em>me</em>? Nah." I bump back into him and we make it over the top of the hill.</p><p> </p><p>The group's staring at some ruins in the distance.</p><p> </p><p>"That's the place." Alistair says as we join them. "Let's go."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The ruins are an old stone doorway, a stone bridge over a deep chasm, and a bunch of tall metal pillars that look like people.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You take point. I'll guard your backs,</span>" Hawke says, staying near the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>It's a simple scouting mission, right?</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Wait...no.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Who's that?</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Warden-Commander Clarel's orders were clear,</span>" a smarmy voice says back.</p><p> </p><p>And another piece clicks.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>That's</em> Erimond." I breathe faster, my chest tightening and shivers going down my spine. "We've got to get in there!"</p><p> </p><p>We race in, and we're already too late. We watch a scared Grey Warden get cut down by another Warden. A rage demon, made entirely of lava, pops up next to a growing spot of green wispy strands slowly forming a Fade Rift.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Good, now bind it, like I showed you,</span>" Erimond waves to the Warden holding the bloody dagger. He's thin with a villain's mustache and goatee set and greasy dark hair in a messy ponytail.</p><p> </p><p>The Warden holds his left hand out, green light glowing from it, and makes the same gesture Halea uses to close Rifts. The demon is washed in green light, and then the Warden's eyes glow red. </p><p> </p><p><em>All</em> of the Wardens' eyes are glowing red.</p><p> </p><p>As red as Erimond's left hand.</p><p> </p><p>"Salome, if anything's ringing a bell, now's a good chance to tell us," Varric says, keeping Bianca trained on Erimond. Piece by piece is clicking into place, but it's not enough to remember what's happening. I shake my head, getting my daggers out.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Inquisitor. What an unexpected pleasure. Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service</span>.” He says it with a bow and floppy motions with his hands, adding pizazz or some shit.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">"<span class="u">I'm guessing you're not a Warden</span>," Alistair says back sarcastically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">And the scene goes on. Corypheus implanting a fake Calling in the Grey Wardens' heads, blood magic, tricking the Grey Warden mages into enslaving themselves to Corypheus, a demon army that won't be heading to the Deep Roads but across Thedas in the name of Corypheus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">Solas flips out when Erimond mentions that the Wardens want to kill the Old Gods. "<span class="u">That's madness! For all we know, killing the Old Gods could make things even worse!</span>" Worse for him, or everyone? Are the Old Gods his friends? I thought they were dragons...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again</span>," Erimond says to Halea, raising his red glowing hand in the Rift-closing gesture. Halea doubles over in pain, grabbing her left hand, the Anchor glowing and sputtering and flickering frantically. "<span class="u">That mark you bear? The anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my master. He’s been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade</span>."</p><p> </p><p>Wait, it lets her go into the Fade? Is that what she's doing when she closes the Rifts? I can feel pain building up in my head, from confusion, from panic, from the sight of the dead bodies and demons and the red-eyed Wardens just <em>standing there</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Erimond sneers and just keeps fucking going. "<span class="u">When I bring him your head, his gratitude will be -</span>" But he's cut off by Halea, standing up, raising her left hand, and tossing him in the air like a fucking rag doll with the Fade energy drifting around the ruins from the nearby Rift.</p><p> </p><p>Then Erimond's running away screaming "<span class="u">Kill them!</span>" And the demons and the Warden mages are coming for us.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The battle takes less time than I think. I stay far away from the rage demons, going after the dusty ones instead. I don't remember what sin they're named after, but they're easy enough to stab with the enchanted Rose's Thorn and Cheese Knife daggers. I don't go near the possessed Wardens. The others take care of them instead.</p><p> </p><p>When the battle's over, the demons have disintegrated and the Warden mage's bodies lie motionless on the stone floor of the ruins.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">So...That went well.</span>" Hawke wipes his longsword off and sheathes it. </p><p> </p><p>Alistair's voice is heavy with disappointment. "<span class="u">You were right. Thanks to the ritual, the Warden mages are enslaved to Corypheus.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">And the Warden warriors?</span>" Hawke looks between Alistair and Halea, then to the corpses that we didn't create in the battle. "<span class="u">Oh, of course. It's not <em>real</em> Blood Magic until someone gets sacrificed.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Halea's angry and upset as well, probably still ramped up with adrenaline from the battle. "<span class="u">Human sacrifice, demon summoning...who looks at this and thinks it's a good idea?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">The fearful and the foolish.</span>" Hawke's voice drops into a sneer.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Hawke, they made a mistake, but they thought it was necessary.</span>" Alistair's voice is stern, with a hint of disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">All blood mages do</span>," Hawke snaps back. "<span class="u">Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions...and it never matters. In the end, you are always alone with your actions.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Like Anders?!</em>" My is voice hoarse, my hands shaking as they hold onto the daggers too tightly. "<em>Anders</em> killed a shitton of people, and when he was on his knees in front of you, he told you why he did it, why he '<em>had'</em> to do it, and then<em> you let him go</em>."</p><p> </p><p>I sheathe my daggers. No one's stopping my rant, and I'm not going to stop it myself. Not yet. "Your <em>story</em> about <em>that</em> decision is you're in love with him, that you can't betray your lover. But you <em>just said</em> that there's no excuse for bad decisions. No excuse for Anders' decision, and no excuse for <em>yours</em>. So you're definitely going to make it right, right? You're going to hunt him down and make sure he faces the consequences of his actions, <em>because there's 'no excuse</em>,' <em>RIGHT</em><em>?!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Hawke glares at me. The others don't look much happier than him. And still, no one's trying to stop me. "If there's no excuse for bad decisions, if the justification doesn't <em>matter</em>, then why the <em>fuck</em> didn't you kill him or turn him in? That would have been the 'right' decision, <em>r</em><em>ight?!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Some things cannot be measured in good or bad, they simply are," Solas says solemnly, nodding to Halea.</p><p> </p><p>I turn and shove him into the stone doorframe. He isn't expecting it, so he hits the stone <em>hard</em>. He slumps down, dazed, groaning. Halea runs to his side and starts applying healing magic, glaring at me.</p><p> </p><p>And I don't give a single, flying <em>fuck</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>You don't get to say SHIT about bad and good, Solas. </em>Because if <em>anyone</em> knows about <em>justifying</em> a <em>bad decision</em>, it's <em>YOU</em>." I can feel my teeth creak from the pressure my jaws are putting on them.</p><p> </p><p>And I <em>do not give a</em> <em>fuck</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He looks at me, glaring, his face starting to twist into a scowl. I glare back, daring him, <em>daring </em>him, to tell everyone exactly what I'm fucking talking about.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Enough</em>." Halea steps between Solas and I. "Let's focus on what's <em>important</em> right now, which is <em>not</em> letting Corypheus have a demon army <em>and</em> Nightmare at his command. We've got to go to Adamant Fortress, right?" I nod my head. I'm too fucking pissed to speak. "Then let's get back to Skyhold, regroup, and take a <em>new</em> plan of attack to Adamant."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>Ah...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p><em>FUCK</em>. I look at the others, and they're just as confused, looking around for the source of the voice. This time, I'm not the only one who can hear him. That alone almost makes me cry in relief.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>Yes, well...That's all a bit...<strong>trite</strong>, don't you think?</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike><em><strong>Another</strong></em> trip back to <em>Skyhold?</em></strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>Another chance to plan and plot, another chance to embrace friends in the day and lovers at night...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>But I grow <strong>bored</strong>. And, I grow!</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>Ah. Yes, well. I grow stronger, more myself, and I also grow <strong>bored</strong>. With you.</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>With you <strong>all</strong>.</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>Alistair looks at me and points to his ear. "Is this..."</p><p> </p><p>I nod at everyone. "It's the Author."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>Ah. Yes, well. I've forgotten to introduce myself to the rest of the characters.</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>I don't care to anymore. Maybe once, before I was <strong>consumed</strong> by the rot you brought to me, Salome.</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>Not anymore. </em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>Ah. Yes, well. I grow bored.</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>So, let's skip Skyhold, shall we? It's much more fun to just</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <strike> <em>GET</em> </strike> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <strike> <em>RIGHT</em> </strike> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <strike> <em>TO</em> </strike> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <strike> <em>IT</em> </strike> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>A rumble shakes the old stone floor of the ruins, throwing all of us off of our feet.</p><p> </p><p>Large, dark tentacles rise out of the chasm we're standing over. The tentacles have more tentacles coming off of them, and more, and more.</p><p> </p><p>The hairy ball of pretentious tentacles itself. The Author.</p><p> </p><p>Halea lifts her hand towards the Author. "It worked once, it-"</p><p> </p><p>A tentacle, thicker than a sewer pipe, shoots out and wraps around Halea completely.</p><p> </p><p>I want to try to call out her name, but suddenly I'm surrounded in darkness. Darkness that presses against my face and mouth, that squeezes me mercilessly. Another tentacle. Its thousands of mini-tentacles don't wiggle or squirm, just <em>squeeze</em>. My joints start popping, and I can't get enough breath to scream.</p><p> </p><p>I can see something bright in the darkness.</p><p> </p><p>A comet?</p><p> </p><p>It sails through the air in an arch, a boulder on fire, and I watch as it slams into a stone wall that wasn't there a half-second ago.</p><p> </p><p>I'm on my own feet. I hear yelling and screaming. I hear metal clashing with metal. I hear grunts and roars and thuds. I smell smoke.</p><p> </p><p>Smoke and blood.</p><p> </p><p>We're standing in a courtyard, dead soldiers all around us. Some of them are Grey Wardens, others are from the Inquisition.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><span class="u">PULL BACK! THEY'RE THROUGH!</span></em>" The voice comes from near where the comet, no, the boulder hit the stone wall. The stone <em>battlement</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Cullen runs into the courtyard. Behind him is a wood and metal battering ram, the ram's head a spiked, metal fist. Soldiers stream in after him. "<span class="u">All right, Inquisitor. You have your way in. Best make use of it. We'll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>He waits, looking at Halea, who looks as confused and panicked as I am.</p><p> </p><p>Trebuchets, battering ram, and siege ladders.</p><p> </p><p>Soldiers, demons, and Grey Wardens.</p><p> </p><p><em>Us</em>.</p><p> </p><p>We're already here.</p><p> </p><p>At Adamant.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0053"><h2>53. Destiny</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What you do.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Halea~</p><p>NOTE: The majority of this chapter and next chapter follows along with the progression of the Here Lies the Abyss quest after arriving at Adamant Fortress. Please consider re/playing (or watching a playthrough of) Here Lies the Abyss to see the original storyline and progression. ~BB</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>This can't be real</em>, Halea thought.</p><p> </p><p>They were in the ruins in the Western Approach just a few moments ago. It had been <em>midday</em>. How did they get <em>here</em>, to Adamant Fortress, in the middle of a siege that they hadn't even planned yet?!</p><p> </p><p>A wave of shivers passed through Halea's limbs as she remembered the feeling of the Author grabbing her. It had surrounded her completely, the Anchor useless with her arm immobilized and no Fade energy to draw on. And for a moment that had lasted far, far too long, she had been unable to feel magic's presence within her at all. It had felt like a part of her had been ripped away, like she was suddenly missing an eye or an arm. She knew what it felt like to have magic, and the feeling of its <em>lack</em> of presence was more unnerving than the fact that it had been gone.</p><p> </p><p>Cullen looked at her expectantly. He had just said something about now being their chance.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Just keep the men safe,</span>" she said back.</p><p> </p><p>Cullen responded, in an almost admonishing tone, "<span class="u">We'll do what we have to, Inquisitor.</span>" As if she should have already known that they needed to prioritize her and her party's advance. "<span class="u">Warden Alistair will guard your back. Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. He's assisting them until you arrive.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Halea looked around the bailey. Hawke was missing from their group. Alistair nodded to Cullen, but was still very obviously confused. Cullen was speaking as if this should have all been common knowledge to them.</p><p> </p><p>As if they had already made a plan and gone over it.</p><p> </p><p>A scream from above drew Cullen's attention, and Halea looked up as well, just in time to see an Inquisition soldier's body fall from the battlement above. A hunger demon looked down at them, hissing before turning back to continue fighting.</p><p> </p><p>Cullen's expression went from determined to worried. "<span class="u">There's too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can't get a foothold.</span>" Tactically, this was a bad position to be in. Siege ladders were meant to overwhelm an enemy stronghold with numbers. But if the numbers couldn't get there...</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we'll cover your advance,</span>" Cullen said, just before he turned and ran back out towards the battering ram.</p><p> </p><p>Halea looked towards Salome, and saw that the woman's eyes were filled with panicked tears. "It's too fast, this is too fast, we don't have a plan, we haven't prepared, we're so <em>fucked</em>, oh my god, <em>we're fucked</em>-"</p><p> </p><p>Salome had continued rambling in a panic. It struck Halea that the woman may have been good with stories, but she was shit with reality.</p><p> </p><p>Halea strode over to her and grabbed her shoulders. "Salome, you've got to get it together, we have to go help those men, <em>now</em>!" She could hear more of their shouts, more of their screams. "<em>Now</em>, Salome!"</p><p> </p><p>Salome came back to her senses, sniffling and wiping tears off on her shoulder. "Sorry, fuck, sorry, I-"</p><p> </p><p>"There's no time, let's move!" Halea turned Salome and pushed her into a run, heading for stairs that, hopefully, would lead up to the battlements where her men were fighting - and dying - for <em>her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>They found a group of Inquisition soldiers facing off against Grey Warden Spellbinders and their blood-bound demons.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Brothers, can't you see this is madness?</span>" A shaky voice rang out in the small courtyard where several Grey Warden warriors were cornered by other Wardens and their demons. The demons surged forward, and the Spellbinders began casting.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair charged towards the possessed Wardens, yelling at the hesitant warriors. "<span class="u">They're bound to the demons!</span>" He slashed into one of the hunger demons near him and slammed his shield into a Spellbinder, knocking him unconscious. "<span class="u">I'm on your side!</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Halea and the others rushed in and quickly took down the other demons while trying to incapacitate, rather than kill, the Spellbinders when they could. After a few minutes, the courtyard was momentarily secured, but the Grey Warden warriors that had been trapped on a platform in one corner stayed on guard.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Everyone just stay back! Keep your distance!</span>" The Grey Warden warrior had his bow drawn, an arrow aiming at them, anger and terror in his eyes. The other two warriors with him kept their weapons drawn as well, the same fear on their faces.</p><p> </p><p>Halea didn't have time to walk these Wardens through their fear, not when she didn't fully understand what was happening herself. "<span class="u">The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel, not to kill Wardens. If you fall back, you won't be harmed.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>She hoped she was right. She must have sounded confident enough for the moment, because the Warden lowered his bow. "<span class="u">All right. My men will stay back. We want no part of this. Deal with Clarel as you must.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Halea gave them a single curt nod and kept running. Better to keep the sane Grey Wardens away from the possessed ones, that way Inquisition soldiers might not accidentally kill the ones who had surrendered.</p><p> </p><p>They made their way higher up, running as fast as they could through hallways and courtyards. They ran into pockets of demons with one or two Spellbinders, but took care of them as quickly as they could and kept advancing. If there had been time, Halea would have stopped to make sure that the Spellbinders were tied up while they were unconscious, neutralizing them as threats when they woke up. If there had been time, Halea would have spoken with the others about the best way to make it to the battlements quickly. If there had been time, the party could have gotten better weapons, better armor, more potions.</p><p> </p><p>But there wasn't any time. The Author had made sure of that.</p><p> </p><p>Another flight of stairs, and the entire Approach was spread out around them. The battlements. Another flaming boulder landed ahead of her, the force knocking out more Grey Wardens. She couldn't tell if they were alive or dead.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall surged ahead of her, pointing towards a siege ladder with his sword. "<span class="u">Clear the area around the ladder!</span>"</p><p> </p><p>A rage demon and an equal number of possessed and non-possessed Wardens fought in front of where the Inquisition soldiers were trying to climb over. Halea and the others worked furiously to take out the hostile Wardens and the rage demon.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">We're clear!</span>" Blackwall shouted. </p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Let's get to the next one!</span>" Varric shouted back, racing ahead. They ran, looking for another siege ladder in need of help, taking out demons and hostile Wardens on the way, shouting at non-possessed Wardens to fall back. They ducked through archways and ran through half-constructed rooms, trying to run faster and faster and faster.</p><p> </p><p>They burst through a door out onto a massive courtyard, with a strange platform surrounded by griffon statues, in time to see Hawke take a swing at a massive pride demon.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Blood mages!"</span> He shouted between swings. "<span class="u">It's <em>always</em> blood mages!</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Despair demons, at least three of them, floated around the courtyard, blasting icy beams at Inquisition soldiers and Grey Wardens. They threw themselves into action. Varric stationed himself in a corner of the courtyard and fired at the pride demon, helping Hawke chip away at it. Halea and Solas cast Immolate spells and set Fire Mines. Alistair and Blackwall chased after the floating, spinning despair demons, realizing that trying to help Hawke might hinder him instead.</p><p> </p><p>A shock of ice burst from the ground, knocking Halea on her back. She rolled, taking the brief moment she had to look around for Salome. Where was she?</p><p> </p><p>Then, movement to near Hawke caught her attention. Salome had leapt from the griffon-statue platform at the pride demon while it's back was turned to her, busy with Hawke. Hawke grinned at her and gave her a nod as her daggers sunk into the demon's shoulders, ripping through its flesh. Salome leapt off the demon's back and landed behind it, quickly disappearing into shadow.</p><p> </p><p>She'd be fine.</p><p> </p><p>Another shock of ice burst from the ground, but this time it was aimed at Solas.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn't ready for it.</p><p> </p><p>The ice pierced his side, slicing cruelly into his stomach. He fell, shuddering, losing blood faster than healing magic could replace. Halea ran to him and grabbed a vial of red liquid, shoving the healing potion in his mouth and forcing it down his throat before he could bleed to death.</p><p> </p><p>How many healing potions did they have left? They weren't even to the Fade, they were nowhere near Nightmare, and they were already using their potions, falling and rising, getting exhausted.</p><p> </p><p>Damn that Author. <em>Damn it</em><em> to whatever hell it crawled out of!</em></p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Inquisitor.</span>" Hawke, winded, jogged up to her side. "<span class="u">Always a pleasure.</span>" </p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Good work,</span>" she said back. "<span class="u">Stay with my forces, and see that they survive this</span>." She had seen too many men fall too fast. Her soldiers would need the help more than she would.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke immediately turned and started for the areas they had just come from. "<span class="u">I'll keep the demons off them as best I can.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Varric gave Hawke a thumb's up as he dashed off. Once he was out of sight, he gave Halea a slight nod. "Thanks."</p><p> </p><p>"Don't thank me just yet..."</p><p> </p><p>The matching courtyard on the opposite side of where they found Hawke <em>also</em> had a pride demon, with several hunger demons. But it was the last blocked siege ladder. They had to help the soldiers. Stuck on the ladder, they were easy targets for ground troops and demons alike.</p><p> </p><p>The pride demon laughed cruelly, it's many eyes swiveling around, looking at all of them. Its hand curled and a whip of pure lightning materialized in its grasp. A lash of the lightning whip caught Halea off-guard, cutting and cauterizing a deep wound on her thigh. She decided it was time to try out a new spell she had been saving.</p><p> </p><p>She'd originally wanted to try this on the Author, before it had captured and neutralized her. Then, she'd meant to save it for the Fade. But she was <em>done</em> with this pride demon.</p><p> </p><p>She held out her left hand, considering where she'd aim it, when Salome appeared out of the shadows a few feet to her side.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Don't!</em> <em>Don't use it yet!</em>" She slashed at the hunger demon Halea hadn't noticed flanking her, casting panicked glances at Halea between slashes. "You need to save it for the Fade!"</p><p> </p><p>Halea lowered her hand, growling in frustration, and cast a Wall of Fire instead. Salome was right, but this was taking too long. At this rate, they'd never...</p><p> </p><p>Never what? What were they <em>doing here</em>? They were rescuing the Inquisition soldiers, yes, and at some point they were going to be forced into the Fade, but the main reason for coming to Adamant Fortress, the reason they would have arrived here without the Author's interference, was lost on Halea. She'd just have to figure it out as they went.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">All right, this one's clear!</span>" Varric almost sounded hopeful as he announced the pride demon's fall, its body disintegrating and returning to the Fade.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">We must hurry!"</span> Even <em>Solas</em> was worried. <span class="u">"Our forces cannot stand against the demons for long!</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Halea saw Salome glare at Solas, confusion softening the sneer she was giving him. One day, Halea would figure out why they disliked each other so much. </p><p> </p><p><em>After</em> they survived this.</p><p> </p><p>"Warden-Commander Clarel is probably in the main courtyard," Alistair said, eyes locked on the center of the fortress. "Along with all the others."</p><p> </p><p>"Then it looks like we know where to go," Halea said, trying to knead a cramp in her shoulder as she started towards where Alistair was staring.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The courtyard was filled with green wisps of light, twisting through the air like silk threads, giving off dark, acrid smoke. Several Spellbinders pointed their staves at the largest Fade Rift Halea had ever seen, pouring their own mana into it.</p><p> </p><p>An older woman with a shaved head was speaking to the crowd of Grey Wardens in the courtyard below her. Halea saw Erimond standing next to the woman who must have been Clarel, looking impatient.</p><p> </p><p>Halea stood at the top of the stairs. Other Grey Wardens noticed her, some looking at her with blank stares of red light, others with fear and confusion. Erimond and Clarel were talking, maybe even arguing. Then Clarel turned behind her and spoke to another older Grey Warden, who knelt to her.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Shit</em>," Salome whispered. Halea's heart sank. With one word, Salome had told her that the Grey Warden kneeling to Clarel was going to die.</p><p> </p><p>They watched Clarel bow her head to the man. They watched him stand up, and watched her stand behind him with one arm holding him in a hug to her chest. And they watched her whisper something to the man with a look of absolute heartbreak.</p><p> </p><p>Halea dashed down the stairs, sprinting down them two, three at a time. A low stone overhang briefly obscured her sightline to Clarel and the older Grey Warden. Long enough for Clarel to drag a dagger across his throat. The next Halea saw of the man was when he sunk to his knees before falling over, dead.</p><p> </p><p>Halea stopped in the courtyard, just outside of the ring of horrified Grey Wardens. They had been too late.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Stop them! We must complete the ritual!</span>" Erimond issued the order. Halea held up her hand instead, signaling to the others to stand down. She strode forward, not caring if the other Grey Wardens tried to stop her.</p><p> </p><p>They stood in front of her, swords halfheartedly raised to attack if she got closer, but she stopped. She was still a good fifty feet from the Warden-Commander, but she looked into her eyes all the same.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Clarel, if you complete that ritual, you're doing exactly what Erimond wants.</span>" Halea's voice carried clearly across the stone courtyard. A few of the Grey Wardens shifted on their feet.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">What, fighting the Blight? Keeping the world safe from darkspawn? Who wouldn't want that?</span>" His tone was mocking, and petulant. "<span class="u">And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty.</span>" He crossed his arms, proud and haughty that he was being so falsely 'noble.'</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">We make the sacrifices no one else will. Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them.</span>" Clarel's voice carried the heaviness of a thousand lifetimes of disappointment.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">And then <em>he</em> binds your mages to Corypheus!</span>" Alistair's angry shout sent a jolt through the Wardens.</p><p> </p><p>Clarel's eyes widened. Halea could barely make out her response, but she saw it on her lips. "<span class="u">Corypheus? But he's dead.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Erimond leaned in and whispered angrily to Clarel. She passed her hand over her forehead, pausing.</p><p> </p><p>She looked back at Halea, a soft look of regret on her face. Halea's heart sank further when Clarel's face turned hard.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Bring it through.</span>" The Spellbinders, the ones enslaved to Corypheus, cast forth more of their mana at her command. The other Wardens turned towards Halea's party and started to stalk towards them.</p><p> </p><p>Salome stood next to her, staring at the scene in front of them. Hawke, Alistair, and Blackwall went forward, trying to reason with Clarel, the other Wardens, anyone who might listen to them. A hissing roar comes from the Fade Rift, and Halea could see eyes through some of the green wisps. <em>Thousands</em> of eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"We're too late," Halea said quietly. "We were always going to be too late, weren't we?"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You're being used...and some of you know it, don't you?</span>" Blackwall's voice echoed in the courtyard, the Warden warriors and the few mages who weren't enslaved to Corypheus responding back.</p><p> </p><p>"No..." Salome answers, just as quietly. "I mean, yes, in some ways, but no, not really."</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You're afraid that you ordered all these brave men and women to die for nothing.</span>" Hawke spat at Clarel, but Halea felt it in her own soul. She hadn't even gotten the chance to order this attack, but she felt responsible for the deaths of the Inquisition soldiers all the same.</p><p> </p><p>Halea noticed Salome look up towards the sky suddenly.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor! He sent me this to welcome you!</span>" Erimond yelled a second later, followed by the roar.</p><p> </p><p>The roar of the Archdemon.</p><p> </p><p>Halea dove behind a pile of planks just as the Archdemon swooped down towards the courtyard, spraying red corruption from its jaws. It pulled up and circled around, its tail pulverizing a griffon statue. It flew low enough over the courtyard that Halea could see its decaying skin and the bones jutting out of its chest. She thought she could see a darkness behind the bones, as if the Archdemon was only void within. It landed on one of the towers overlooking the courtyard, letting out a massive roar.</p><p> </p><p>When Halea looked back at Salome, her eyes weren't on the Archdemon. They were back on Clarel.</p><p> </p><p>Halea looked up just in time to see Clarel hurl a ball of lightning at Erimond's back, knocking the arrogant bastard down. Her hand sparked again as she looked up towards the Archdemon.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Clarel, wait...</span>" Erimiond reached out to Clarel, his voice sounding more scared than pleading.</p><p> </p><p>Clarel let the second ball of lightning loose, hitting the Archdemon squarely in the chest. The Archdemon responded with a blast of red corruption, just barely missing both Clarel and Erimond. It launched off the tower, laying down a line of virulent bright red, separating Clarel from Erimond. Erimond turned and ran in the direction the Archdemon flew.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Help the Inqisitor!</span>" Clarel yelled before dashing off to follow Erimond and the Archdemon.</p><p> </p><p>Help <em>them</em>? But shouldn't <em>they</em> be going to help fight the Archdemon?!</p><p> </p><p>And then Halea noticed they were surrounded. Demons had poured out from the enormous Fade Rift in the center of the courtyard, attacking the Wardens in a frenzy.</p><p> </p><p>Halea charged towards a pride demon, and unleashed the energy she had built up in the mark on her hand. Halea's mark created a temporary anchor in the air, drawing all Fade energy around it inward, slowing the demons that surrounded them. She thought she heard Salome shout something, but she couldn't make out what she said. There were too many demons, and the Archdemon kept flying overhead, breathing out its virulence in devastating lines.</p><p> </p><p>They finally took down the pride demon, but many other demons had spread throughout the fortress, and the Wardens who could ran after them to destroy them.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">How do we get out of here?!</span>" Varric shouted over the noise of demons and Wardens clashing once again. Halea nodded towards some stairs. If anything, Erimond was sure to flee higher, maybe even try to run away by riding on the Archdemon's back. They had to stop him before that happened.</p><p> </p><p>Hunger demons appeared around corners, trying to stop their pursuit, but Halea and the others kept going, eliminating any demon or in their way.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">The Wardens have turned against the demons!</span>" Blackwall shouted in a mixture of relief and pride. The Wardens would be able to kill most of the demons, and Halea could feel the burden lift from her shoulders slightly. They could help themselves, and Halea could concentrate on getting to Erimond and Clarel.</p><p> </p><p>Just then, the hallway they were racing through was filled with the bright, stinging corruption of the Archdemon's breath. It had been stalking them, Halea noticing too late that the sounds of wings and roars followed their progress. It ate away at the iron railing along the hallway's outer edge, crumbling it to ash and rust. Halea and the others only just escaped the main force of its power, and kept running.</p><p> </p><p>Halea chanced a glance to the lands surrounding Adamant Fortress. They were barren and lifeless. The only movement was the flickering of massive veilfire blazes that ate their way along the ground, smoke rising up into the air and blotting out the little light the night sky could offer.</p><p> </p><p>And the Veil was getting weaker. She could feel it, the realization turning her blood to ice and forcing her to run faster.</p><p> </p><p>More stairs, more demons, more last-minute dodges out of the Archdemon's attacks, and finally, <em>finally</em>, they found Clarel and Erimond near the top of the fortress, on a large flat balcony overlooking more land that was burning in green fire.</p><p> </p><p>Erimond hurled a blast of fire at Clarel, but the Warden-Commander continued towards him, unfazed. The barrier around her repelled it with ease, and she walked forward with confidence and determination: the look of a leader who knew they were finally doing the right thing.</p><p> </p><p>He hurled another blast of fire, and it did nothing to her.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You! You've destroyed the Grey Wardens!</span>" Clarel seethed at Erimond, not slowing her approach. She summoned a blast of force and sent the sniveling mage backwards, close to the open edge of the balcony. Clarel circled his prone body, putting herself between Erimond and the edge. <em>Between him and a quick escape,</em> Halea thought with grim approval.</p><p> </p><p>Erimond rolled over weakly, chuckling. "<span class="u">You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch</span>." He sat up, clutching his side, staring at Clarel. "<span class="u">All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes. And you couldn't <em>wait</em> to get your hands bloody!</span>" </p><p> </p><p>Clarel slashed her stave forward, lightning and force pushing Erimond back towards Halea's party, scraping him across the buckling stones. He writhed and groaned in pain, smoke drifting up from his body. "<span class="u">You could have served a new god,</span>" he moaned.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I will <em>never</em> serve the Blight,</span>" Clarel replied, standing over him.</p><p> </p><p>Halea moved forward. Maybe to stop Clarel from killing Erimond, or maybe to help her finish him off. She wasn't sure which.</p><p> </p><p>She didn't make it forward one step before the Archdemon landed on the balcony and snapped its jaws over Clarel's body.</p><p> </p><p>Its teeth cut into the Warden-Commander's stomach as it lifted her up, tossing her almost playfully as it opened and shut its jaws for a better hold. Clarel's legs were flung around awkwardly, and Halea wasn't sure if they were kicking, or just flopping. The cursed thing jumped to a battlement overlooking the balcony, and shook its head violently side to side, an animal shocking and incapacitating its prey. It spat her out, the Warden-Commander's body landing in front of Halea with a skid.</p><p> </p><p>Halea held her breath, then released it when she saw Clarel move. The Archdemon let out a growl, stalking towards its still-living prey.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">In war, victory...</span>" Clarel said weakly, dragging herself away from the Archdemon as it came closer.</p><p> </p><p>Then it looked up and saw Halea.</p><p> </p><p>Another growl let them know that the Archdemon had just changed its target.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">In peace, vigilance...</span>"</p><p> </p><p>It stalked forward slowly, stepping over Clarel, who turned on her back and looked up at it, blood pooling around her.</p><p> </p><p>The Archdemon crouched, its claws digging into the uneven stone, readying itself to pounce.</p><p> </p><p>As it leapt, Clarel used the last of her magic, and her blood, to hit the Archdemon with the largest ball of lightning and fire that Halea had ever seen a mage cast.</p><p> </p><p>It knocked the Archdemon to the side, its momentum still carrying it forward and forcing Halea and the others to dive out of the way. It skidded off the end of the broken balcony with a screech. But by the sound of its flapping wings, Halea assumed that the fall was far enough for the Archdemon to get itself airborne. It lived.</p><p> </p><p>Halea barely had time to worry about the Archdemon coming back for another attack before the ground underneath her tilted. The balcony was collapsing, the floor where the Archdemon's claws had been a moment before cracking and falling down into the ravine below.</p><p> </p><p>Halea ran forward over rumbling stones, almost tripping on one. The others ran as well, trying to make it to steady ground. She turned briefly to see the ground underneath Alistair fall away, leaving him hanging onto the edge of more unstable rock. Salome quickly grabbed his arms and pulled him forward. Halea looked for Solas, and found him keeping pace, his eyes fearful.</p><p> </p><p>The balcony floor ahead of them cracked. The stone floor tilted, sending them sliding down along with the masses of stone that had once been solid floor.</p><p> </p><p>They fell.</p><p> </p><p>Halea felt the wind rush past her ears, so loud it drowned out any other sound. Smoke filled her lungs and robbed her of any screams she might have made. Her arms and legs flailed uselessly, as if she were trying to swim in the thin air.</p><p> </p><p>All she saw below was a molten river of acid green, waiting to swallow them.</p><p> </p><p>No.</p><p> </p><p><em>No</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She would not die like this.</p><p> </p><p>Halea reached out her hand, summoning all the energy the Anchor had to offer, drawing in as much ambient Fade energy as she could find, pouring her own life into the power growing in her palm.</p><p> </p><p><em>Please</em>, she thought, a prayer to whoever was listening, and threw the energy forward.</p><p> </p><p>The Fade opened to them.</p><p> </p><p>Halea just barely noticed the swirl of inky blackness in the center of the Rift before passing through it completely.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0054"><h2>54. Fate Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What is done.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p><p>NOTE: The majority of this chapter and last chapter follows along with the progression of the Here Lies the Abyss quest after arriving at Adamant Fortress. Please consider re/playing (or watching a playthrough of) Here Lies the Abyss to see the original storyline and progression. ~BB</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wasn't able to scream while we were falling, the air had been squeezed out of my lungs like the first drop of a rollercoaster. I finally get to start screaming as the ground gets closer to turning me into fucking pulp.</p><p> </p><p>And then my scream turns into a confused yell. Because I'm not falling anymore? I'm...rising? Like I've just jumped into a pool from a high dive and the water's started pushing me back up.</p><p> </p><p>The ground - the <em>other</em> ground - slams into my back. Or my back slams into it.</p><p> </p><p>I stand up, feeling dizzy, and see it. The Fade. It's nothing like how it was when Cole brought me here, back when I first got here. <em>That</em> Fade had been hazy, mostly rocks, and the air had been so thick it had been hard to move. There were voice echoes of what people were going to say before they said it.</p><p> </p><p>This Fade is not that Fade.</p><p> </p><p>I brush some of the sandy dirt off of my legs. Halea gets up off the ground a few feet away from me. Apparently we'd landed the same way. The ground looks weirdly normal, sandy dirt with large rocks. Not the most comfortable to land on.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the Fade looks...unsettling.</p><p> </p><p>This Fade is green and black and dusty and glittering. I can move, hear, and speak normally. The air is chilly, with random gusts of too-hot air. Massive rocks hang in the sky, all glittering like they're wet. Some of them even have waterfalls coming off of them. Random ash floats around. Maybe it's just from Adamant, or maybe it's always been here.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Well, this is unexpected</span>." I look up and see Alistair, unharmed thank <em>fucking Christ</em>, standing on the side of one of the floating rocks. Literally <em>on the side of it</em>. <em>Parallel</em> to the fucking <em>ground.</em></p><p> </p><p>Fucked up gravity has turned the Fade into a MC Escher hellscape.</p><p> </p><p>"Unexpected's an understatement. where's everyone else?" I ask out loud, scanning the rest of the Fade. I have to remind myself to look at the sides of rocks.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair turns to look down...over?...at me and Halea, then looks up (<em>his</em> up) at Hawke's voice.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">We were falling.</span>" Hawke's standing upside down, fucking <em>upside down</em>, like a fucking <em>bat</em>, off of a ledge on one of the rocks. He looks around. "<span class="u">If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker's bosom.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">No, this is the Fade.</span>" Solas walks past Halea from somewhere, totally fucking calm, staring up at the green swirly sky. Alistair and Hawke are still standing on their not-our-gravitational-orientation rocks, turn to look in the same direction. "<span class="u">The Inquisitor opened a Rift. We came through...and survived.</span>" He switches to surprised and excited. "<span class="u">I never thought I would ever find myself here physically...</span>"</p><p> </p><p><em>But you were planning to you fucking LIAR.</em> The thought buzzes in my head, a pissed off wasp trapped in my skull.</p><p> </p><p>He stares up, noticing some dark rocks with more specific shapes. "<span class="u">Look, the Black City, almost close enough to touch</span>."</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">This must be very exciting for you, Solas.</span>" It comes out of <em>my</em> mouth, even though it's supposed to be Halea who says it. I put a lot more spite in it than she would have.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Any advice you have on what exactly's going on would be wonderful,</span>" Halea says quickly, and a lot more nicely.</p><p> </p><p>He ignores her question. <em>Asshole</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">What spirit commands this place? I have never seen anywhere like it.</span>" Solas is musing. He's fucking <em>musing</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">It's not how <em>I</em> remember the Fade, either,</span>" Hawke mumbles. "<span class="u">Perhaps it's because we're here physically, instead of just dreaming.</span>" He spins to look at Halea. "<span class="u">The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I don't know. I still can't remember what happened the last time I did this.</span>" Halea's pissed, probably about being asked about Haven, and I don't blame her. This isn't somewhere I'd want to visit twice, either.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Well, whatever happened at Haven, we can't assume we're safe now.</span>" Hawke crosses his arms, looking even more like a bat. "<span class="u">That huge demon</span> Salome's warned us about <span class="u">was right on the other side of that Rift Erimond was using, and there could be others.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">In the real world, the rift with the demons in it was nearby. In the main hall. Can we get out the same way?</span>" Alistair asks...someone...</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, that's how we get out," I go ahead and answer. "We've got to get there, <em>alive</em>, after fighting our way through a bunch of shit, then fight Nightmare, then get everyone through the Rift before Nightmare can stop us."</p><p> </p><p>Sounds close to an actual plan.</p><p> </p><p>"And how are we going to do that <em>now</em>?" Hawke starts walking down his rock, joining us on the correct side of gravity. "We didn't have the chance to get any of the weapons or supplies we were planning to bring with us. I'm getting the feeling that one of us is still going to end up staying behind here." Varric and Blackwall appear near the back of the group, and Alistair makes his way to our side of gravity, too.</p><p> </p><p>Solas looks at me. It's not a glare. It's an I-Told-You-So look. A 'See? I'm the one being rational here' look. </p><p> </p><p>If he had glared at me, or ignored me, it might have been fine.</p><p> </p><p>But an I-Told-You-So look?</p><p> </p><p>No.</p><p> </p><p>I'm done.</p><p> </p><p>I'm </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>F U C K I N G </em>
</p><p> </p><p>done.</p><p> </p><p>"So <em>this</em> is what you want to replace the current world with, Solas?" I sweep my arm out, motioning to the entire Fade.</p><p> </p><p>The smug look drops from his face.</p><p> </p><p>"Or since we're in the Fade do you want me to use your other name? <em>Fen'Harel</em>."</p><p> </p><p>And he snarls like the wolf he is.</p><p> </p><p>"Fen'Harel? The betrayer? That's quite the nickname, did you lose to him at cards or something?" Halea looks confused, waiting for some kind of punchline.</p><p> </p><p>There isn't one.</p><p> </p><p>"It's not a nickname. It's his <em>name</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>No</em>, my name is <em>Solas</em>." He sneers, snarl twisting up his face.</p><p> </p><p>"Your original name, sure. It's not the name you had when you locked away the powerful elven mages who became gods, and its not the name you had when you made the Veil. You were <em>Fen'Harel</em> by the end."</p><p> </p><p>His snarl gets even deeper, his face more distorted. If he could still shapeshift, he'd probably have grown fangs.</p><p> </p><p>But unfortunately for him, <em>I remember now</em>. I remember enough to know the things he should have told Halea by now, but didn't.</p><p> </p><p>And I'm done waiting for him to confess. I turn my back on him, and face Halea. She looks more and more confused and I don't blame her.</p><p> </p><p>"Halea, I was waiting to see if he'd tell you, but apparently he hasn't. Looks like it's up to me anyway. When you found him the other night, and you said he was asking what you'd do if you found out he wasn't a good guy? Well, I'm going to give you your chance to show him what you would do if you found out who he <em>really</em> is."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Don't</em>," Solas tries to command me.</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck you." I don't even bother looking behind me. "<em>FIRST</em>, way closer to home, remember how he told me to throw myself into Nightmare's jaws to save Hawke and Alistair?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>What</em>?" Alistair sounds shocked and angry.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. I don't think that was for completely selfless reasons, because then I couldn't tell you all ofthe secrets he's been keeping from you."</p><p> </p><p>"Salome, <em>stop</em>." Another command from Solas.</p><p> </p><p>"Fuck <em>off</em>, Fenny, let the non-immortals talk."</p><p> </p><p>I hear him gasp. "How <em>dare-</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"I would <em>shut up</em> if I were you." That came from Hawke, with a snarl of his own.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>SECOND</em>, he hasn't been telling the truth about who he is. He hasn't <em>completely</em> lied to you, but he's definitely bent the truth." I pause. For Halea's sake.</p><p> </p><p>Because her eyes have that hurt in them, the hurt that comes from getting fucked over by someone you thought you knew.</p><p> </p><p>He'd had his chance.</p><p> </p><p>"So...who is he?" She looks over my shoulder, at him. Her eyebrows lower.</p><p> </p><p>"I wasn't kidding. He's Fen'Harel. <em>That</em> Fen'Harel."</p><p> </p><p>Her eyebrows sink lower. She says nothing.</p><p> </p><p>"But I'll give him a tiny bit of credit. The stories of the elven gods or whatever aren't exactly the <em>truth</em>. More like propaganda. He can explain that better than I can." I jerk my head towards him. "If he ever feels like telling you the truth."</p><p> </p><p>Solas stays quiet. Probably has a nasty look on his face.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>THIRD.</em> This one's a biggie, Halea. Are you ready?"</p><p> </p><p>"How can it possibly get <em>worse</em>?" Varric mumbles, off to the side, observing.</p><p> </p><p>Halea nods.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>He</em> gave the Anchor to Corypheus."</p><p> </p><p>Her eyebrows rise and her eyes widen. Surprise and horror. She lifts her hand and stares at it, then at him, then at me, then back at her hand.</p><p> </p><p>Sound seems to fall away in the Fade as the full weight of what that means hits everyone.</p><p> </p><p>The Breach.</p><p> </p><p>Halea's mark.</p><p> </p><p>The Fade Rifts.</p><p> </p><p>The explosion at the Conclave.</p><p> </p><p>"He...caused all of this..." Halea whispers.</p><p> </p><p>I nod.</p><p> </p><p>"Halea..." Solas says her name, whining. Maybe pleading, but it sounds like whining to me.</p><p> </p><p>She makes a fist with her left hand, and now she glares at him.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Why?</em>" Halea's voice is low, but full of anger and hurt.</p><p> </p><p>"Because he wants Elvhenan back." I say it more quietly, then pause again. She's breathing faster. I feel sorry for her, but I'm more pissed at Solas than sorry for her being hurt. "And to get Elvhenan back, he has to take down the Veil, and when the Veil comes down, it'll burn the current world down to nothing. Erase everything. Maybe it'd be painful like literally setting the world on fire, maybe it'd just reverse time so no one now would ever exist. Either way, he wants to destroy the world."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>WHY?!"</em> She shouts it. The question echoes off of floating rocks and out into the Fade.</p><p> </p><p>And now I turn around and face him. The snarl is smaller, and he looks scared.</p><p> </p><p><em>Good</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I turn my head to the side, to make sure Halea hears me. "Because he's got a guilty conscience and wants to make himself <em>feel better</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Anger makes him tighten his grip on his stave. But I can see it in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>I'm right.</p><p> </p><p>It might not be the whole reason, but I'm <em>right</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Halea..." Solas takes a step forward. He looks so fucking concerned, so <em>hurt</em>. He has <em>no right</em> to look hurt. Not when he's the one setting fire to the fucking <em>world</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I hold up my hand before he takes his second step. "I'm not done, Fenny. There's one last thing."</p><p> </p><p>Solas snarls again, showing his true colors through his sheep's clothing.</p><p> </p><p><em>Good</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"He's started planting people who work for him, and him alone, in the Inquisition. People who want to help him burn the world." I hear Halea inhale sharply. "He's corrupting the Inquisition so he can grow his own network and further his own goals. And you know what the worst part about that is?" I shake my head slowly, disgusted. "The worst part about <em>that</em> is he blames the fact that Inquisition can be corrupted on everyone else. Why should he feel bad about rotting the Inquisition from the inside when it was <em>possible</em> in the first place? If it wasn't <em>him</em>, it would have just been someone else. Like the Qunari, eventually. Right, <em>Fenny?</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"As if that could possibly make it any better," Blackwall growls from next to Varric. He's got his hand on his sword. I glance around and see that Hawke and Alistair are at the ready, too. Even Varric has his finger on the trigger of his massive crossbow. No one's drawn their weapon and pointed it at Solas yet.</p><p> </p><p>But they're ready to.</p><p> </p><p>Solas' chest heaves as he realizes there aren't any allies here for him. No looks of sympathy. No desire to understand his twisted motives. The woman he loves glares at him with fury and pain in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>His hand tenses on his stave, and his eyes dart around. A wolf, cornered by the sheep he wanted to deceive. </p><p> </p><p>The wolf speaks.</p><p> </p><p>"Fine. I don't deny the claims." Everyone tenses, and he flinches back in response, the look of anger and hatred on his face getting nastier by the second. When no one answers him, he keeps going. "I don't deny them, nor do I apologize for them." He straightens up a little, trying not to look like he's cowering.</p><p> </p><p><em>Go on, you piece of shit. Make your argument</em>, I think angrily. I can feel it coming. It goes right along with the story. This is <em>exactly</em> the moment where he'll make some sort of plea or connection, then we'll move on, wary allies until we all get out of the Fade.</p><p> </p><p>"I do not apologize for my actions," he says again. He's trying to look calm. I can see his hand shaking on his stave. "From the outside, my actions may appear to be wrong to all of you. If they were observed by my peers, they would only seem right. But it does not matter what others think. What I am doing <em>must</em> be done, and I am the <em>only one</em> who can do it. I am the only one who can set the world back to what it was, what it should have been all along." He shakes his head sadly. "I'm the only one who can undo my past sins and make the world whole again."</p><p> </p><p>I get ready to say something snarky.</p><p> </p><p>Only before the words can get out, a green, sparking ball of energy flies past me and hits Solas in the chest, sending him backwards with so much force that his body makes a deep crater in the floating rock that was twenty feet behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Halea. Her left hand is out in front of her, shaking. Her breathing is unsteady. Her eyes are filled with tears and anger. Her whole body is shaking.</p><p> </p><p>She takes in a deep breath, and falls to her knees, crying.</p><p> </p><p>I go and crouch near her. "I'm sorry," I say quietly to her.</p><p> </p><p>I'm sorry she had to hear all of that from me.</p><p> </p><p>I'm sorry we had to have this conversation in the Fade.</p><p> </p><p>I'm sorry that she'll lose her hand in two years, that the love of her life betrayed her, that everything inside of her must hurt like fucking hell.</p><p> </p><p>And I'm sorry that I won't be able to help her process any of this.</p><p> </p><p>Because I realized something, when the angry ball of energy flew past me. Something I should have realized a long time ago.</p><p> </p><p>It was always going to lead to this. <em>Always</em>. There was <em>never</em> going to be another option. So I've got to make the best of it, while I can. And apparently 'the best of it' meant bringing out the truth and watching it cut Halea down. 'The best of it' is going to mean walking with Alistair as long as I can while we're in the Fade together. 'The best of it' is going forward and getting it over with.</p><p> </p><p>I stand up. The others have gathered around Solas, Hawke and Alistair holding his arms roughly, dragging him out of the cracked stone.</p><p> </p><p>"You caused all of this, you <em>bastard</em>," Hawke spits. "The Breach, the Fade Rifts, the Divine's <em>death</em>. You caused it <em>all</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"There's nothing I'd like more than to try you right here and now for your crimes," Alistair says with just as much venom. "But you're going to have to answer to a lot more people than just us."</p><p> </p><p>"Let him go." They turn and look at me, my arms crossed, my face calm.</p><p> </p><p>"Freckles, are you <em>serious</em>?! You just told us he's the reason we're all in this <em>shit</em> and you want us to <em>let him GO</em><em>?!</em>" Varric stands with Bianca aimed at Solas' heart. "You better have a <em>great</em> reason."</p><p> </p><p>"Because we need him to get home. We can't defeat all the demon's we're going to face without him."</p><p> </p><p>That's not why.</p><p> </p><p>But I'm not going to tell anyone the real reason why.</p><p> </p><p>They'll see soon enough.</p><p> </p><p>They stare at me. I shrug and look away from them. "Besides, we promised that everyone's getting home alive."</p><p> </p><p>I look down at Halea, who's sitting back on her heels, wiping her face raw with her sleeve. I offer her my hand, and she takes it, letting me help her stand up.</p><p> </p><p>"Let's get going." I say it to Halea, who nods, then look at the others. "We've got to go find the golden glowing lady I told you about." And before anyone can start doubting me out loud, I head towards the swirling green circle in the sky.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There are torches and candles and pools of black water with green steam coming out of them, There are torches and warped statues and angry red lyrium. There are bright golden statues for some reason. Angry, gnarled roots stick out of the ground at random places. There's a golden light on the opposite side of the swirling green circle. In the distance I see what looks like a giant woman holding her arms out, head bowed, towards a floating rock.</p><p> </p><p>There are other floating rocks that look just a little bit like buildings. And there are little keyhole windows <em>everywhere</em>. They shine out of the rock- and cliff-faces with bright golden light. There's <em>thousands</em> of them. And I've never noticed them until now. Who lives in there? And <em>why</em>? It makes me think of the goblin city from <em>Labyrinth</em>, only darker and with a hell of a lot less singing and puppets.</p><p> </p><p> Solas stares at the sky, his eyes a little hazy. "<span class="u">This is fascinating. It is not the area I would have chosen, of course. But to physically walk within the Fade...</span>" The bastard sighs <em>happily</em>. Fucking <em>creep</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"No one cares, Baldy." It's Varric who says it, sarcasm and anger in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>"Are we expecting the Author to pop out from behind one of these floating rocks?" Blackwall looks around warily, trying to spy tentacles.</p><p> </p><p>Solas offers up some knowledge timidly, bitterly. "I felt nothing of the Fade coming from it when it transported us to Adamant Fortress. I do not know where it came from, but it's not the Fade. If it is here, I do not think it could survive very long. This is Nightmare's domain, without a doubt. <span class="u">I suggest you remain wary of its manipulations and prepare for what is certain to be a fascinating experience.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"'Fascinating'...great..." Varric sighs in frustration, deciding to reload Bianca. He 'carelessly' aims it at Solas while he reloads.</p><p> </p><p>We walk up some stairs between two golden raven statues that are in the Fade for no reason. The golden light on one side is bright but looks kind of hazy too, while the green circle swirls with dark clouds. I end up standing next to Solas.</p><p> </p><p>I've torn him down enough, probably. But There's more I want to know.</p><p> </p><p>"So, Solas." He glares at me, but I've got his attention. "<em>This</em> is what Erimond meant when he said the anchor '<span class="u">lets you pass safely through the Veil</span>' when he was doing his I'm A Bad Guy speech at the ruins. This is what the anchor was for. To get physically to the Fade. But what would you have done once you got here? Cast a spell? Tore down that giant lady statue over there? Lived here because it's obviously such a better world than the not-Fade one?"</p><p> </p><p>He seethes and stays quiet.</p><p> </p><p>I lean in closer to him. He leans away in response, but not far enough to miss what I whisper to him. "What, too proud to tell a soon-to-be-dead girl the rest of your plan? What the fuck do you have to lose?"</p><p> </p><p>When I say the word 'dead,' I see the color drain from his face. Nice to know that he still has a conscience.</p><p> </p><p>"That's none of your concern," he says back before walking forward.</p><p> </p><p>"I'd be interested in that myself," Halea says, watching him from further up the path, ice freezing over her voice.</p><p> </p><p>Solas has the fucking <em>nerve</em> to look hopeful for a hot second, until Halea's look makes him tuck his tail between his legs again. Still, he wanders closer to her and begins speaking to her.</p><p> </p><p>Fine, it's not like I <em>need</em> to know his plan.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair drops back to walk with me. He points to a wall where a table for 6 is set with some kind of food and candlelight. It's also parallel to the ground, and no one's around it. "What do you think would happen if we ate some of that?"</p><p> </p><p>Despite all this shit that we just went through, I smile, about to try to throw back some kind of joke. But then Halea and Solas run towards some green glowing ghosts. I sigh, taking out my daggers instead. "No rest for the wicked," I mumble.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>We walk and fight and stare at the absolute batshit crazy fucked-up-ness that is the Fade. More than a few times I see big statues that look like they belong inside of a gothic cathedral, but instead of an angel or some saint it's a mostly-naked desire demon. There are other statues that have less detail and look more primitive. Some of them look like wolves. Others look like screaming, misshapen humanoids. We see enormous rocks balanced on top of thin stone columns. We see enormous rocks that float inches off the ground.</p><p> </p><p>There are piles of skulls everywhere. The boulders look like they have faces, and the faces are all screaming. I try to look through some of the little golden windows, but all I can see is light. I find a few fairy-sized doors too, but they don't open. I try to ask Solas if <em>this</em> is the Black City, since there are little windows and doors. He ignores me. I ask him if the Black City was originally Arlathan, or if it was where the Evanuris lived after they were banished, and if it was, then why were Tevinter magisters able to corrupt the then Golden City?</p><p> </p><p>He continues to ignore me. That's fine.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the group has settled into an uneasy, unspoken truce with Solas. We all need to work together to get back. Once we're back, we can figure things out.</p><p> </p><p>That's what they're thinking. If I had to place a bet, I'd say Solas was planning to cut and run as soon as he cleared the Fade.</p><p> </p><p>Not that it matters for me.</p><p> </p><p>Certain glowing objects draw Halea's attention, and she starts reading notes left by people who are definitely dead, then doing little things to put those spirits at rest. It's nice, and I remember that she gets some stat boosts from doing it, too. Anything we can get will help at this point.</p><p> </p><p>We walk up a set of stairs towards a disconnected stone arch, the golden light shining through it, and find her.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">What? That can't be...</span>" Alistair stares at the woman, wary, but awed.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I greet you, Warden.</span>" The old woman in red and white robes has an Orlesian accent. "<span class="u">And you, Champion.</span>" She nods to Hawke.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Divine Justinia</span>." Halea says with surprise. The woman smiles slightly. "<span class="u">Back at Haven. I saw...I thought I saw...How can you be here?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">She isn't. Things in the Fade have a tendency to show up looking like people you know. Demons, mostly.</span>" Alistair says with with some bitterness. I kind of remember something from the Circle in <em>Origins</em> about his Fade nightmare, but I don't know if that's what he's talking about.</p><p> </p><p>I guess I told them about a glowing golden lady, but didn't remember who the fuck it was. So we have to go through this scene, waste valuable time, for them to accept that the glowing golden lady is/the form of Justinia.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You think my survival impossible, yet here you stand alive in the Fade </span><span class="u">yourselves.</span>" Justinia points out. "<span class="u">In truth, proving my existence either way would require time we do not have.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Really? How hard is it to answer one question?</span>" Hawke asks. "<span class="u">I'm a human, and you are...</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I am here to help you.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Even though they know enough about the glowing spirit from what I told them, they still go through the scene. No way to escape it, apparently. I check out of the scene and look around us, seeing more and more details. I don't know if the details are because of being physically in the Fade, or because it's a newer game and they <em>can</em> put more details, or if I've just literally never noticed any of it before.</p><p> </p><p>I see something wiggling in the distance, around the sleeve of the giant lady statue. Something black. Something tentacle-y.</p><p> </p><p><em>And so the fucker finally shows itself,</em> I think.</p><p> </p><p>I see a single tentacle raise up and move side-to-side.</p><p> </p><p>That asshole's <em>waving at me</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I raise my middle finger back. The tentacle disappears behind the sleeve.</p><p> </p><p>The others suddenly start fighting more green glowing ghosts. They take care of them quickly, and I watch Halea gather the leftover green spots of light by absorbing them with her mark. Regaining her memories.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair comes to stand next to me again as Halea collects her memory fragments.</p><p> </p><p>"So, that was...a lot." He keeps his eyes on the others, but I can feel the worry radiating off of him. </p><p> </p><p>I nod and sigh, rubbing at the side of my face with my hand. "Yeah. It was time to get all of that out in the open."</p><p> </p><p>He turns to look at me, and I look at him.</p><p> </p><p>I love looking at him.</p><p> </p><p>I love <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Wait, he said something.</p><p> </p><p>"What? I kind of blanked out for a second."</p><p> </p><p>He smirks. "Lots on your mind, I get it. Although it hurts being ignored." He fake-pouts. "I asked if you were okay."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Ha</em>!" My laugh is loud and sudden and joyless. "No, not even a little."</p><p> </p><p>"Anything I can help with?"</p><p> </p><p><em>I will NOT cry, not now</em>, I mentally tell myself.</p><p> </p><p>"Will..." <em>DO NOT CRY.</em> "Will you just stay with me?" <em>DO NOT FUCKING CRY. NOW IS NOT THE TIME. </em>"As we go."</p><p> </p><p>"Are you inviting me on a stroll around the Fade, my temptress?" He says it with a grin. "Well, we're already here, might as well take in the sights together. Although you'd better enjoy it while we're here, because we are <em>not</em> coming back. I don't care <em>what</em> anniversary it is."</p><p> </p><p><em>DO NOT CRY. </em>I hook my arm with his, watching Halea and 'Divine Justinia' talk. "Deal."</p><p> </p><p>I say it just before we all get blasted into Halea's memory.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>I forgot about that part, where we get to see all the memories Halea gets back. They're a lot more disturbing when they look so fucking real. I could look at the pixels and sometimes skittery scene progression and know it wasn't real.</p><p> </p><p>This shit looked <em>real</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I shake my head when the memory ends, pressing my hands to my eyes like I can push the spots out of them.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil...</span>" The spirit that looks like Justinia starts.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry to interrupt, Divine Justinia, but we know this part," Varric says, hefting Bianca and placing it in the holster on his back. "Actually, we might even know <em>more</em> than you."</p><p> </p><p>She nods like a saint, and skips ahead. "<span class="u">You cannot escape the lair of the Nightmare until you regain all that it took from you. You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Then the Divine disappears.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair looks over at Hawke. "<span class="u">What's wrong, Hawke?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I wondered if you might be concerned about the Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision. Their actions led to her death</span>."</p><p> </p><p>Alistair's about to respond angrily when I grab his hand and squeeze it. "Hawke, we all know who's really to blame."</p><p> </p><p>Hawke shoots a glance over at Solas, and scowls. "True...but that doesn't excuse what the Wardens did."</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I assumed Corypheus took their minds. You've seen it happen yourself.</span>" Alistair tries to remind Hawke. Hawke stays silent, his scowl getting a little less severe. "<span class="u">Come on. You can add it to the things to yell at the Wardens about when we get out of here</span>."</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Oh, I intend to,</span>" Hawke grumbles.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I've never met the Divine</span>," Varric says, his voice full of wonder. "<span class="u">You think that was really her?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">We-</span>" Solas begins to answer.</p><p> </p><p>I cut him off. "It's debatable. Some people think it is, some people think it's just a spirit, some people think that she's like Cole. It just depends on which theory you believe."</p><p> </p><p>Cole.</p><p> </p><p>I remember what he whispered to me before we left Skyhold.</p><p> </p><p>He knows, too. He knows it was all leading to this.</p><p> </p><p>I send a pre-emptive thought of gratitude out, hoping he gets it.</p><p> </p><p>Solas sneers at me, angry at being interrupted. He can't manage his wolfy snarl, not when he's been shamed and put in his place, but his name doesn't mean 'pride' for nothing.</p><p> </p><p>"Nightmare <span class="u">sounds like it preys on fear. Stealing people's memories. That's low, even for a demon</span>," Varric says with a shake of his head.</p><p> </p><p>Solas glances at me, seeing if I'll speak, then opens his mouth when I stay silent. "<span class="u">Fear is a very old, very strong feeling. It predates love, pride, compassion...every emotion save perhaps desire. Be wary. Nightmare will do anything in its power to weaken our resolve.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Yes, it will.</p><p> </p><p>But it won't be able to.</p><p> </p><p>It can't stop what's going to happen.</p><p> </p><p>None of us can.</p><p> </p><p>Not even me.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0055"><h2>55. Fate Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What is inescapable.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Halea~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"<span class="u">...after what it did to the Wardens, it's going to learn to fear for itself.</span>" Alistair's voice sounded angry, determined. Salome stood by his side, and slowly wrapped her arm through his, patting his bicep gently.</p><p> </p><p>Halea barely registered the last remark that was said before the silence returned.</p><p> </p><p>Her fragile heart felt like it would crumble.</p><p> </p><p>The man she loved, that she called her <em>vhenan</em>, was a liar.</p><p> </p><p>A villain.</p><p> </p><p>A<em> betrayer</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>THE</em> betrayer.</p><p> </p><p>Fen'Harel. Solas was Fen'Harel, and Fen'Harel was Solas.</p><p> </p><p>He was the Dread Wolf.</p><p> </p><p>And he had swallowed her heart whole, leaving her chest empty, bloody, and aching.</p><p> </p><p><em>'So this is what you want to replace the current world with, Solas?' </em>Salome had asked him. And he hadn't denied it.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn't denied anything.</p><p> </p><p>He'd claimed it all.</p><p> </p><p><em>'What would you do with me, Halea, if you knew I wasn't a good man?' </em>His voice had been shaking with fear. He had asked her like a child asking if they were in trouble, terrified of the answer.</p><p> </p><p>And she had told him it was alright, that he was alright. That he couldn't be wrong.</p><p> </p><p>She had given the wolf who had eaten her heart permission to swallow the world whole.</p><p> </p><p>'<em>To make atonement to the countless masses that have suffered because of me.'</em> Had Solas been telling the truth about <em>why</em> he wanted to destroy everything?</p><p> </p><p>Or was Salome right? <em>'Because he's got a guilty conscience and wants to make himself feel better.'</em></p><p> </p><p>She didn't know.</p><p> </p><p>She made her way towards the green swirling vortex in the sky, towards the statue of the robed figure, its arms outstretched in front of it. In supplication, in worship, or to receive. It was unclear.</p><p> </p><p>It didn't matter, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing did, except to get out of the Fade.</p><p> </p><p>Halea knew much more mattered beyond the Fade, but she could only concentrate on <em>now</em>. She couldn't think about what had to be done when they emerged from the Fade. <em>If</em> they emerged from the Fade.</p><p> </p><p>She stared absently at the green lightning in the dark half of the sky, and the clouds of ash and ember that floated around her. She was keenly aware of when Solas was close to her, but ignored him as best as she could.</p><p> </p><p>She saw demons up ahead, and hurled fire at them, channeling her rage into her spells. The Fade seemed to magnify her magic, maybe taking her feelings and using them to push the spells she used to greater effectiveness.</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe it just felt good to throw fire at something.</p><p> </p><p>Hurling the Fade energy at Solas had felt bittersweet.</p><p> </p><p>She wanted to hurl more Fade energy at him.</p><p> </p><p>She wanted to embrace him.</p><p> </p><p>She wanted to punch him.</p><p> </p><p>She wanted to kiss him.</p><p> </p><p>Most of all, she wanted him to tell her the truth. The truth about <em>everything</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Because if he had lied to her about his name, had lied to her about the Anchor...had he lied to her about his feelings for her? The feelings he gave away so begrudgingly, that would flow out of him only after she pleaded and assured and enticed him.</p><p> </p><p>And did the time she spent believing his lies seal the fate of the rest of her world?</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Ah, we have a visitor.</span>" The deep voice reverberating throughout the Fade broke Halea out of her thoughts. She gripped her stave with both hands, readying a spell, heart jumping into her throat.</p><p> </p><p>It sounded like Corypheus.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Some silly little girl comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from her shoulders.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Not Corypheus, then, but Nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>Who knew a spider could sound so eloquent, so<em>...soothing?</em></p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>She looked towards the golden light, staring at an enormous desire demon statue as green Fade energy drifted up from a pit below. Its voice sounded as if it came from the golden light.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You think that pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Did Halea think that pain would make her stronger?</p><p> </p><p>It was true for some things. The aches from a hard day of training meant that her muscles would get stronger. A broken bone was stronger after it healed.</p><p> </p><p>But the pain in her chest, the one that pulsed where her heart should have been?</p><p> </p><p>No. She would have liked to give away <em>that</em> pain. Because <em>that</em> pain made her weak in the knees from love, from sadness, from betrayal.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">The only one who grows stronger from your fears is <em>me</em>. But you are a guest here in my home, so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>The voice stopped as suddenly as it had started.</p><p> </p><p>"Is having your fear taken away really all that bad?" Blackwall wondered aloud. "Sounds rather helpful to me."</p><p> </p><p>"The demon known as Nightmare used to be called Comfort, once." Solas was offering more of his knowledge of the Fade, of spirits and demons and history.</p><p> </p><p>He <em>was</em> history. He had walked next to June and Dirthamen and Mythal. He had talked with them. He had fought against them, and banished them. He had created the Veil.</p><p> </p><p>And now he wanted to destroy it. Thereby destroying her entire world.</p><p> </p><p>Destroying her.</p><p> </p><p>And he had never intended to tell her.</p><p> </p><p>She marched on, leaving Solas' voice far behind her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They entered into a valley full of spiderwebs, and Nightmare's voice entered their minds again.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>It seemed like Nightmare preyed on complex fears, not just the fear of the dark or of beasts or of death.</p><p> </p><p>Spiders crawled from the walls of the valley, from behind their webs and out of holes in the stone. They fought off the spiders, killing them, as Nightmare continued to taunt Hawke.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You couldn't even save your city, How could you expect to strike down a god?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe I'll just ask the Liar and see if he's got any tips," Hawke responded through gritted teeth, glancing at Solas, who pretended not to hear him.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Anders is going to die</span>," Nightmare continued. Hawke froze, and Halea quickly cast a barrier around him a split-second before a spider could cut into him with its fangs. "<span class="u">Just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Varric's crossbow bolt found the heart of the last spider, putting it down before it could fling itself at the barrier around Hawke again.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Those were little fears, tiny manifestations spawned from the Nightmare itself,</span>" Solas said. He sounded so calm. So knowledgable. His voice soothed her nerves and frayed them all at once. The agony of being near him ate away at her.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">And of <em>course</em> they look like giant spiders,</span>" Hawke replied to him.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Spiders? That is not what I saw,</span>" Blackwall said with a shaking voice, clearly disturbed by whatever the Little Fears had looked like to him.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Remember, we walk in the Fade. Demons of fear shape their appearance to unnerve each of us.</span>" Solas' voice was confident. She hated that she felt comforted by it.</p><p> </p><p>"I saw more of those 'words' that attacked me in the barrier, fucking leeches," Salome panted. She wasn't used to fighting this much or this long. Halea hoped that they still had enough healing potions to help keep them all alive until they escaped the Fade.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Wonderful,</span>" Varric sighed.</p><p> </p><p>They came upon a grotesque statue, human-sized, like a skeleton with a thin layer of golden skin covering it, its face twisted in a silent howl, and the entire thing licked by flames. Halea read the open book in front of it. The book was a journal. The entry it was open on was from a Circle mage, one that seemed to have rebelled against their Templar overlords. She felt grim approval before the statue in front of her exploded into a rage demon.</p><p> </p><p>By instinct, she drew her stave and cast spells of freezing at it. In her mind, she understood the fiery thing. She understood the utter feeling of helplessness, the anger that boiled the blood and urged them to do something, <em>anything</em>, to right a terrible wrong.</p><p> </p><p>It was cut down and sunk back into the earth. Halea wished the earth, even the twisted earth of the Fade, would swallow her too.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Perhaps <em>I</em> should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition,</span>" Nightmare mused with a raspy chuckle. "<span class="u">Like Blackwall. Ah, there's nothing like a Grey Warden.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Halea chanced a look at Blackwall, to see his reaction. He looked angry.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">And you are <em>nothing</em> like a Grey Warden</span>."</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall's jaw clenched, and the grip on his sword tightened. "<span class="u">I'll show you a Warden's strength, beast.</span>" </p><p> </p><p>Halea saw Salome look at Blackwall with something like sympathy, a look which Blackwall nodded to her for. They had an easy regard for one another.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps Halea and Solas could one day have a similar regard.</p><p> </p><p>She knew that it was a lie to herself. But she clutched any shred of hope she could find in this hopeless, desolate place.</p><p> </p><p>They came upon an entire group of fiery golden statues, and they all burst into rage demons at once. They fought viciously, the demons repaying in kind. Hawke cried out as one swiped at his back, leaving a trail of melted metal behind in its wake.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Once again, Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric. You found the red lyrium. You brought Hawke here...</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Just keep talking, Smiley</span>." Varric's voice was a threat.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke looked to Varric with a shake of his head. "As if I'd choose to be anywhere else. How else would you gather your bestselling stories if it wasn't for the trouble you got me into?" Hawke's grin made Varric smile in return. Halea saw that the smile never made it to Varric's eyes.</p><p> </p><p>And then Nightmare addressed Solas.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><span class="u">Dirth ma, Harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din.</span></em>"</p><p> </p><p><em>Dirth </em>for knowledge or secrets. <em>Harellan</em>, trickster to simple translators, traitor to the Dalish who actually used the word. <em>Banal</em> for never. <em>Enasalin</em> for victory. She understood the words but not the meaning as Nightmare used them. It sounded like an old form of elvish.</p><p> </p><p>One phrase she knew well. The Dalish elders had clucked it at capricious children who would climb trees too high or ride Halla too fast without heeding their warnings. </p><p> </p><p><em>'Mar solas ena mar din</em>.'</p><p> </p><p>'Your pride will be your death.'</p><p> </p><p>"<em><span class="u">Banal nadas</span></em><em>,</em>" Solas replied clearly and calmly.</p><p> </p><p>'Nothing is inevitable.' Or perhaps he meant 'Nothingness is inevitable.'</p><p> </p><p>If he intended to destroy the world, <em>her</em> world, then the second possibility was salt in her wounded heart.</p><p> </p><p>She stared at him, and he looked back at her. His expression was calm. But she knew that calm. It was the calm that he put on when he locked his emotions away. If she looked closer, she could have seen the emotions swirling behind his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>She turned and walked away from him instead.</p><p> </p><p>Halea followed the glowing spirit of Divine Justinia, and focused on protecting the spirit from the Little Fears as it demolished Nightmare's barriers, allowing them to get closer and closer to the Fade Rift that led to Adamant Fortress.</p><p> </p><p>Halea defeated more green spirits harboring pieces of her memory, absorbing them as she had the first group. This one brought back Halea's escape from the Fade, with what appeared to be the human, mortal Divine Justinia urging her through the Breach by letting go of Halea's hand, sacrificing herself to the Little Fears swarming after them.</p><p> </p><p>The spirit who appeared to be Divine Justinia looked at her sadly.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">So this can't be the Divine,</span>" Alistair said.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You don't say?</span>" Hawke replied to him, sarcasm poisoning his words.</p><p> </p><p>What good was sarcasm while they were fighting for their lives?</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I am sorry if I disappoint you,</span>" the spirit who appeared to be Divine Justinia said to Hawke, her voice laced with soft sadness. Hawke's face softened in return, the source of his sarcasm rooted out and exposed.</p><p> </p><p>The corporeal form of Divine Justinia faded away, revealing a bright golden spirit underneath. It still bore a resemblance to the Divine, but was also unmistakably the form of a spirit. Halea admired the fiery golden spirit for a moment, feeling an easing in the pain in her chest. The pain of betrayal, and of burden, and of doubt.</p><p> </p><p>The ease was fleeting, temporary, but appreciated nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke spat something about Grey Wardens. Alistair spoke exasperation back. Halea couldn't be bothered to listen to them until Alistair's words caught her.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">So, so what are you saying? Terrible actions are only justified when they're <em>your</em> terrible actions?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>STOP.</em>" Halea's voice rang through the Fade, and the men stopped arguing, looking towards her.</p><p> </p><p>His words had stopped her, because they had tugged at the empty space in her heart. They had burned in her soul. They had called out something that responded deep within her, something that she hated: the rationality behind the words as they applied to her <em>vhenan</em>. To Solas.</p><p> </p><p>"Everyone can convince themselves that what they're doing is right. Everyone can convince themselves that what others do is wrong." Tears gently made their way along Halea's lashes, gathering like mourners, respectfully waiting to process. "What you think is right and wrong doesn't matter. It's where others' judgement falls that counts."</p><p> </p><p>The tears dripped slowly down her face, falling from her lashes onto her cheeks. "Arguing about this here and now is pointless. We need to get back to Adamant. Wait until we're back in the courtyard, and then you can tear each other apart for all I care."</p><p> </p><p>She turned and saw Salome staring at her. The woman's eyes were sympathetic. If anyone knew what Halea was going through, it was most likely her.</p><p> </p><p>Halea turned away from her. Because she had also hidden the truth. She had kept Solas' secrets for him. The betrayal was smaller, but betrayal nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>She heard Solas speak calmly to the others. "<span class="u">The Wardens may once have served a greater good, but they are far too dangerous now.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>A second later she heard the telltale thud of a fist connecting with flesh. Clearly Solas had forgotten he wasn't well liked in their group anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Halea looked back to see Salome shaking her hand out, Solas wobbling on his feet, a hand to his cheek. The last time Salome had attacked him, Halea had rushed to his side.</p><p> </p><p>She searched her emotions for that same feeling of concern and care, that same momentary panic that would send her forward, worried for him. All she felt was the aching emptiness in her chest.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">This debate can wait until we're out of danger,</span>" Halea called to the others. Her voice sounded more confident, more alive, than she felt. They responded in kind, their faces showing shock.</p><p> </p><p>Shock didn't seem right. Not until Halea turned and saw a new swarm of Little Fears in front of her.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">The Nightmare has found us</span>," the spirit of Justinia warned before disappearing.</p><p> </p><p>Even having feuded just a moment before, the group banded together and defeated the swarm of Little Fears. It was cold comfort to Halea, that they could at least all agree they wanted to make it through the Fade alive.</p><p> </p><p>Another swarm was defeated, and another section of the Fade was put behind them.</p><p> </p><p>Halea noticed Salome look up every once in a while, squinting at the distant buildings.</p><p> </p><p>"What do you see?" Salome was surprised, caught off guard that Halea was speaking with her. "Whenever you start looking around, it means something's coming."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, yeah, uh, I've seen a few dark shapes that might look like Author tentacles?"</p><p> </p><p>"Is this something we should be worried about?" Halea's eyebrows lifted slightly in the most concern she could muster in her current state.</p><p> </p><p>Salome huffed. "The Author is a wildcard, I can't really predict what it's going to do, not <em>really</em>, but...I've got a strong feeling that I know what's going to happen. Really strong. Like 99.9% sure that I know what's coming." She smiled, and the sadness in her smile caught Halea off guard in return. "Still freaks me out, but I'm pretty sure."</p><p> </p><p>Halea's gaze darkened. "Care to <em>share</em> that with me?"</p><p> </p><p>Salome rubbed her face and looked away. "You guys'll be fine."</p><p> </p><p>Halea grabbed Salome's arm, forcing the woman to look at her. "And what exactly does that mean, Salome? I'm very, <em>very</em> tired of secrets."</p><p> </p><p>Salome wrenched her arm from Halea's grasp. "It's not a <em>secret</em> if I'm not <em>sure</em> it's going to happen. <em>Rude</em>." Halea was about to argue back, but Salome interrupted her. "Solas was right about something."</p><p> </p><p>Halea stared at her. "About <em>what</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>Salome looked back, towards Alistair, and her sad smile grew across her face again. "About me being the one to stay behind."</p><p> </p><p>"And <em>why </em>is that? We’ve prepared. We know what’s coming. Why would you stay behind after everything we’ve done to get all of us home?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I have to,” she said with a shake of her head.</p><p> </p><p>”I'm not in the mood for these vague answers, Salome."</p><p> </p><p>"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorr-" Salome suddenly slapped a hand over her mouth, crushing the few sobs that were trying to escape.</p><p> </p><p>Halea stepped back. How had she not noticed the woman had been so close to breaking down in tears? But Salome pushed back the sobs and tears, coughing a little and wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape with her knuckles.</p><p> </p><p>Salome sniffed. "Whew, sorry about that." She cleared her throat and rubbed at her nose. "I know I'm asking a lot of you, but I have to ask you to trust me on <em>this</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Halea glared at her warily. It was something more than just staying behind in the Fade. "On <em>what</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"That I'll take care of the Author and all of you will get home safe."</p><p> </p><p>Halea wasn't so numb that she couldn't read the silences between Salome's words. "Take care of it...and that’s why you don’t make it back."</p><p> </p><p>Salome was about to answer when Nightmare's voice interrupted them.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Did the king's bastard think he could prove himself? It's far too late for that.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>A look of concern crossed Salome's face, and she turned away and moved towards Alistair.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Your whole live, you've left everything to more capable hands. The Archdemon, the throne of Ferelden...Who will you hide behind now?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Is that all it's got? I've heard worse than that from Morrigan.</span>" Alistair said to the twisted sky. Halea watched Salome walk up to him, and watched him put his hands on her waist as she put hers on his chest. She watched their heads lean in, talking quietly to one another. His expression wry and nonchalant, hers worried but worshipful.</p><p> </p><p>The emptiness throbbed, and Halea turned away. Whatever Salome thought was going to happen, she would let it. She wouldn't say that she <em>trusted</em> her, but she didn't have enough strength to try to stop her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They fought through more and more demons. Tall plant-like demons, demons that resided in the bodies of dead and decaying deepstalkers, and a fair number of more familiar spirits and demons, as well as waves of Little Fears.</p><p> </p><p>Their travels would take them towards the golden light for one moment, then towards the twisting darkness the next. They made their way through ravines that looked eerily like cities, as if the stone had come alive and overgrown the buildings that were once there.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Do you think you can fight me? I am your every fear come to life!</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Nightmare's voice followed them as they made their way towards the Fade Rift.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I am the veiled hand of Corypheus himself. The demon army you fear? I command it. They are all bound though me!</span>" </p><p> </p><p>The spirit that looked like Divine Justinia cheerfully responded to him. "<span class="u">Ah, so if we banish you, we banish the demons? Thank you, Every Fear Come to Life.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Nightmare roared in frustration and sent a fresh wave of Little Fears.</p><p> </p><p>But they defeated each wave, and continued forward through the Fade.</p><p> </p><p>They reached a very curious part of the Fade, one that even made Halea briefly rise out of her thoughts. Swirled pools cut through mucky sand, while a dark ocean spread out beyond it. Enormous rocks floated closer to the ground than they had ever seen. Some of them bore small houses, maybe fit for faeries, while other had common objects, like a writing desk and chair.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I guess things just float whenever they feel like it here. Wonder what's up there,</span>" Varric said cautiously, eyes darting to the writing desk with a look of familiarity. "<span class="u">Or maybe it's best we never find out.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Halea looked up, and saw the stone arches lead up to a massive boulder on top of a tall cliff. The boulder and arches reminded her of a gigantic spider. She froze for a moment, wondering if it was Nightmare, then relaxed when the stone stayed still.</p><p> </p><p>It was down here, in the dark tide pools, that Nightmare spoke to their last companion.</p><p> </p><p>"You, you are a curious little thing." Nightmare's deep voice rung through the Fade, and Salome paused, looking up towards the sky. "You don't belong here. But then, do you belong <em>anywhere</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>Halea saw Salome's face contort in anger.</p><p> </p><p>"Your mother's family despises you, because they believe you killed her."</p><p> </p><p>Halea stopped fighting, turning to look at Salome.</p><p> </p><p>"And your father's family says they don't blame you, but they see your guilt. How can you belong where you're not wanted?"</p><p> </p><p>Alistair had stopped as well, hesitantly stepping towards Salome.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>FUCK YOU!</em>" Salome screamed at the sky, pouring rage and sadness into those two words. "<em>I couldn't have stopped her, even if I tried!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"And did you? Did you <em>try</em> to stop her?" Nightmare's voice trailed away with a raspy chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>Salome stared open-mouthed at the sky, tears streaming down her face. Then she screamed and hurled herself at the nearest demon.</p><p> </p><p>Halea watched as she slashed and spun and darted in frenzy and fury, screaming and crying as she demolished one demon after the other. Once all the demons were gone, she sunk to her knees in the dark water and wept.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair knelt beside her, hands on her shoulders, whispering what were sure to be comforting words to her, and Halea wondered what Nightmare had been talking about. It wasn't her business to ask, she could tell, but she wondered all the same.</p><p> </p><p>She realized she was staring, and looked away, scanning the area around them. She peered through the green vapors and twisting rocks, and something caught her eye. Something with light stones standing in rows.</p><p> </p><p>A graveyard.</p><p> </p><p>She and the others walked towards it, letting Alistair help Salome to her feet and continue whispering to her.</p><p> </p><p>A despair demon blocked the entrance to the graveyard. Halea and the others took care of it quickly, but the chill around it remained.</p><p> </p><p>She walked slowly into the graveyard, reading the first gravestone aloud.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Blackwall: Himself.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"Pardon?" Blackwall turned to her, confused. </p><p> </p><p>"That's what this gravestone says..." She pointed, and Blackwall walked over to it, examining the stone.</p><p> </p><p>"This one's for Sera," Varric called from the back. "<span class="u">The Nothing</span>."</p><p> </p><p>"What is this?" Halea asked in angry confusion.</p><p> </p><p>"They're our worst fears," Solas said quietly, staring at the gravestone with his name on it.</p><p> </p><p>Halea hesitated. She hated that Solas had kept secrets, such <em>enormous</em> secrets, from her. She hated that he was trying to ruin the Inquisition, to destroy her entire world, to destroy <em>her</em>. She hated that even now he didn't appear to show any remorse for any of it.</p><p> </p><p>But she didn't hate <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>She walked over and looked down at his gravestone.</p><p> </p><p>It read, '<span class="u">Solas: Dying Alone.</span>'</p><p> </p><p>"There you have it," he said, looking away from her. "That is my greatest fear. To die without anyone, friend, family, even foe, by my side."</p><p> </p><p>The ache in her chest crescendoed to such a burning pain that she could hardly breathe.</p><p> </p><p>"Mine, too," she whispered.</p><p> </p><p>He slowly turned to her, as if he were afraid that a sudden move might startle her. He lifted his hand to gently rest against her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears that slid down her face.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry," he whispered to her.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't forgive you," she whispered back, tears falling faster.</p><p> </p><p>She couldn't ever forgive him. Not for all the secrets he had kept, all the plans he had made to undermine the Inquisition, to undermine <em>her</em>. Not for all the destruction that his fool's errand had wrought across Thedas.</p><p> </p><p>But she couldn't remove him from her heart, either. Because he <em>was</em> her heart. Her <em>vhenan</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And she was his.</p><p> </p><p>"I know," he said quietly back. "I cannot stop my plans, Halea. Nor would I stop them, if I could. I must see this through to the bitter end. And yet, I hope against hope, that you will be by my side when all is said and done."</p><p> </p><p>"I can't stand back and watch you destroy the world, Solas. I will try to stop you."</p><p> </p><p>"And I will try to not be stopped."</p><p> </p><p>Her voice broke. "How can I love you so much, when you want to destroy everything I know?"</p><p> </p><p>And for the first time since she had met him, tears started streaming down his face. They washed down his face like gentle streams, shocking her out of her own tears.</p><p> </p><p>"The world that would take its place is <em>so beautiful</em>, Halea. I want you to know what it is to be Elvhen, to walk in Elvhenan, to feel magic as it is <em>supposed</em> to be." His face twisted, in sorrow, in determination, in pain, in hope. "I promise you will see Elvhenan, even if you hate me for it for a time. <em><span class="u">Var lath vir suledin</span>...</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Solas..." </p><p> </p><p>"We should move ahead, get to the Rift before it closes." He tried to gently lift his hand away, but hers came up to catch it, keeping it pressed against her cheek. His chest rose and fell faster as she placed her other hand over his heart. </p><p> </p><p>She moved in closer to him, his other hand going to her waist, where it belonged, where it had always belonged. She leaned her head on his shoulder, as he leaned his head atop hers, and wept together, arms sliding until they held each other tightly.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The moment came and went like a flash of lightning, too brief but brilliant and undeniable.</p><p> </p><p>They parted as they heard Hawke read more of the gravestones. "<span class="u">Iron Bull: Madness. </span><span class="u">Vivienne: Irrelevance. Varric: Became...</span>" Hawke hesitated.</p><p> </p><p>"Let me guess, is it '<span class="u">Became His Parents</span>?'" Varric stared at his gravestone from the opposite side of the wooden fence. Hawke turned and nodded to him. Varric looked away, staring out over the dark sea.</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall walked more of the graveyard, reading other gravestones. "<span class="u">Cassandra: Helplessness. Dorian: Temptation.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Salome lingered near another gravestone, close to Solas'. She touched it gently, sadly. "<span class="u">Cole: Despair.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Alistair stared around the graveyard, a look of concern on his face. "Where are ours?" The others looked at him in confusion, but he gestured to the gravestones. "There are some here, but most of them are for people back at Skyhold. There's none for Hawke or myself, or Salome, or the Inquisitor."</p><p> </p><p>"I think I'd prefer to not have my deepest fear chiseled in stone in the Fade," Varric said with a wry twist of his lips. "But maybe that's just me."</p><p> </p><p>"We've lingered too long here," Solas said cautiously. Halea was sure the others had noticed their embrace next to his gravestone, but none of them were foolish enough to think things were forgiven and forgotten. When no one made a negative reply, he continued on carefully. "We should search for the spirit that looks like the Divine. I believe it will lead us to Nightmare."</p><p> </p><p>They found the spirit further up the path, focusing energy on another of Nightmare's barriers.</p><p> </p><p>This barrier was far thicker than the other ones. Wave after wave of demons and Little Fears surged forward, all trying to attack the golden spirit, all being driven back by Halea and the others. A nasty pride demon left many of them with electric burns across their armor. Two powerful despair demons left them shivering until their lips turned blue. A final wave of green ghostly spirits almost overwhelmed them, but they were blasted back as the golden spirit finally broke through Nightmare's last barrier.</p><p> </p><p>It led them through water that was dark and up to their thighs. "<span class="u">You must get through the Rift, Inquisitor.</span>" It still spoke with Justinia's voice, but it blazed brighter and brighter as it got closer to Nightmare. "<span class="u">Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength. That will banish the army of demons...and exile this cursed creature to the farthest reaches of the Fade.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>They traveled underneath a gigantic floating boulder, the size of a small mountain. It gently floated inches up and down over their heads, water pouring from holes that went deep inside the rock.</p><p> </p><p>They saw an opening, marked by misshapen statues of weeping people.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">The Rift!"</span> Hawke shouted in triumph. "<span class="u">We're almost there!</span>"</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">Great, Hawke. Why not just dare the Old Gods to try and stop you?</span>" Varric sighed, tapping Bianca's stock nervously.</p><p> </p><p>Through the opening, they could see it.</p><p> </p><p>Nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>A gigantic spider, covered in barbs and eyes, its body bulbous and its legs sharp and spiked. Little Fears and lesser demons scurried across the ground underneath it. Another creature floated near it, but it was too far away to make out what it was. Statues with red skulls and too-real ribcages poured what looked like blood into a reservoir near Nightmare. The way to the Rift was lit equally by golden light and green, virulent flashes of lightning.</p><p> </p><p>"Looks like we're in for quite a fight," Blackwall said grimly.</p><p> </p><p>"We're as prepared as we can be," Halea said. She was surprised she sounded so confident. "Salome, anything else you can remember before we go down there?"</p><p> </p><p>There was no response.</p><p> </p><p>Halea turned around, looking towards Alistair. His eyes were wide with confusion, looking at the empty space next to him.</p><p> </p><p>"She was just here!" He exclaimed, drawing his sword and shield, looking around.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike> <em>Ah. Yes, well...</em> </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>That voice...</p><p> </p><p>The voice was softer and lighter than Nightmare's, a voice she had hoped to never hear again.</p><p> </p><p>The hair on the back of Halea's neck prickled as she tilted her head up to look at the rock above them.</p><p> </p><p>At first, she saw nothing but stone and shadow.</p><p> </p><p>Then the shadows in the crevices of the floating boulder above them <em>moved</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0056"><h2>56. Fate Part Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What is inevitable.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It drags me up one of the chutes.</p><p> </p><p>Pieces of my skin are ripped off  and left behind on the rocks I'm being dragged across.</p><p> </p><p>Stale, sludgy water gets forced up my nose and in my throat.</p><p> </p><p>It pulls me through the chute and doesn't give a single shiny fuck that it’s hurting me as it does. Something heavy hits my shoulder, taking chunks out of my body as I get pulled completely underwater for one second.</p><p> </p><p>Two seconds.</p><p> </p><p>Three seconds.</p><p> </p><p>Four seconds.</p><p> </p><p>Then it's bright around me. I gag, scummy water shooting out of my nose and mouth. My stomach jerks, getting as much of the water out as it can. The air hits the cuts and holes in my skin, making them sting. They bleed, and the blood mixes with the scummy water, dripping down into the pool below me.</p><p> </p><p>I vomit, and hear laughing.</p><p> </p><p>"Fu-<em>uc-</em>"</p><p> </p><p>I vomit more.</p><p> </p><p>The Author laughs more.</p><p> </p><p>Scum water and snot make my nose burn. Water and spit drip out of my mouth, and my vision's fuzzy, shadows growing and fading in my eyes.</p><p> </p><p>I see it pull the rest of itself through the chute up into the pool it holds me over. So much of it comes through that small chute. Like a fucking octopus. With a billion more legs.</p><p> </p><p><strike><em>"Ah! Yes, well, I HAVE grown, haven't I?"</em></strike> It wiggles happily.</p><p> </p><p>I snort out as much of the scummy water and snot as I can. It's got my arms pinned to my sides, and my legs wound up tight inside a cocoon of its tentacles.</p><p> </p><p>I gag again, my stomach trying to punch its way out of my body from the feel of it.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah. Yes, well. Alright, enough of that.</strike></em>" It wiggles me back and forth. Blood rushes around in my head, and the air burns my open cuts like fire.</p><p> </p><p>My jaw's clenched, and my stomach's still jerking, trying to make sure every last piece of scum and bile is out of there, and I still find breath to moan in pain.</p><p> </p><p>Because it fucking <em>hurts</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The Author shakes me harder. My head feels like it'll snap off.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah! Yes, well! I said ENOUGH! There's very little time left!</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>I try to croak out a few words, lips bleeding and body still trying to eject every drop of disgusting water. It stops wiggling me and pulls me closer to the highest concentration of its tentacles, it's 'core' or whatever.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah? Yes, well? What was that?</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>"I...know..." I stop and cough, the last bits of scum catching on the back of my teeth. I spit it out and take a shaky breath.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah! Yes, well! I've waited long enough for this. Long enough, and in enough pain. You put me through too much. There's a limit, you. know, of how much pain someone will take until they abandon a story.</strike></em>" I cough-laugh, and my stomach spasms again. I'd have thought I'd have at least gotten used to the sting of my open cuts, but nope. It all still hurts.</p><p> </p><p>I hear faint shouts.</p><p> </p><p>The Author turns and moves towards the edge of the boulder we're on. Water ripples around it, surging away from it in waves.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah. Yes, well. They must have noticed you were missing. They're looking for you.</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>Of course they are.</p><p> </p><p>It's what they would do.</p><p> </p><p>And it's what the Author wants.</p><p> </p><p>My vision clears little by little, and my head spins a little less.</p><p> </p><p>But the Author takes its time, practically strolling through the shallow lake on top of the boulder. By the time we're at the edge of the boulder that used to be <em>above</em> me, the others have run out from underneath it, staring in front of them.</p><p> </p><p>There it is.</p><p> </p><p>"<strike><em>Ah! Yes, well! There it is!</em></strike>"</p><p> </p><p>Nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>"<strike><em>Ah! Yes, well! Like a closer look?</em></strike>"</p><p> </p><p>The Author swings its massive tentacle, wrapped tighter than an undersized sleeping bag around me, so that I can clearly see the others facing Nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>From up here, it looks so much bigger than the others.</p><p> </p><p>Dramatic effect, knowing the Author.</p><p> </p><p>"<strike><em>Ah. Yes, well. Are you going to be this BORING the entire time?</em></strike>" The Author sways me back and forth, less than gentle, and its voice sounds like its pouting.</p><p> </p><p>And here's my chance.</p><p> </p><p>Because it was all leading to here anyway.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll be less boring..." I grunt and croak, my throat raw from vomiting and my breathing restricted by the Author's tentacles. "...But you have to let me do it."</p><p> </p><p>The Author stops swaying me. "<em><strike>Ah? Yes, well? Let you do 'it?' What do you mean?</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>It tries to sound innocent and confused. For something without a face, it's terrible at lying. I can <em>hear</em> it smiling. Doesn't matter if it doesn't have a mouth. It's smiling. Grinning from metaphorical ear to metaphorical ear.</p><p> </p><p>"It was always going to end up like this, right?"</p><p> </p><p>It turns me so I face its main bulk. "<em><strike>Ah? Yes, well?</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>It's egging me on.</p><p> </p><p>And I'm going to let it.</p><p> </p><p>"This story...always was going to reach this specific conclusion, huh? Not a fucking thing I could have done, right?"</p><p> </p><p>The Author's voice giggles excitedly. "<strike><em>Ah! Yes, well! No, nothing you could have done! So, what will you DO now?</em></strike>"</p><p> </p><p>"I'll do it." I shake the wetness and snot and spit from my face.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah? Yes, well? You'll do...what, exactly?</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>It squirms, its excitement reaching the first wave of its too-many limbs.</p><p> </p><p>I snort up the rest of the scum and snot, then spit it out with the sour taste in my mouth. I don't aim for the Author. I don't <em>not </em>aim for it, either.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll give you the ending you've been pushing for." I look at the center of its mass of writhing tentacles.</p><p> </p><p>I’m so tired, but I don’t want this to be over. It’s got to be, but I don’t want it to.</p><p> </p><p>What I want never mattered.</p><p> </p><p>"<strike><em>Ah! Yes, well! The 'ending?' Which ending have I been looking for?</em></strike>" Its voice sounds like it's trying to be bashful or some other kind of shit, but the innocent act doesn't work. It's too excited to hear my answer.</p><p> </p><p>"The best one. According to <em>you</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah! Yes, well!</strike></em>" I feel the Author shiver through all its fucking shitton of tentacles, vibrating with excitement. "<em><strike>I was going to suggest you do so, but you've beaten me to it! I am so very, very excited!</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>It pulls me closer to its mass, its telepathic voice lowering to a whisper. "<em><strike>Ah. Yes, well. Do you know what to do?</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>I nod. Of course I know what to do.</p><p> </p><p>It's what the Author's been trying to get me to do since I got here.</p><p> </p><p>The 'right thing.'</p><p> </p><p>The 'heroic thing.'</p><p> </p><p>The 'tragic thing.'</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">If you would, please tell Leliana, 'I am sorry. I failed you, too.'</span>" The soft voice of Not-Justinia's spirit rings out just before a blinding flash of white light.</p><p> </p><p>The fight's starting.</p><p> </p><p>The tentacles squirm again, it's multi-limbed version of a fucking happy dance, probably. "<strike><em>Ah! Yes, well! This is all I wanted for you! And now you've come around! I am so PROUD of you!</em></strike>"</p><p> </p><p>I can feel the snarl on my face, more vicious than anything Solas has ever shown here, even if he were back in a wolf form. His snarl couldn't hold a fucking <em>candle </em>to this one.</p><p> </p><p>"You're <em>proud</em> of me?! You're fucking <em>PROUD </em>of me?! You don't GET to be <em>proud</em> of me, you fucking <em>bastard!</em>" Its still got me locked up in its tentacle, and that's probably a good choice, because I would have started tearing chunks out of it if I could have.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah. Yes, well. No need to be so rude.</strike></em>" Its voice is light and clipped and <em>so fucking pretentious</em>.</p><p> </p><p>I sink my teeth into it, so fast it doesn't have time to register what I'm doing.</p><p> </p><p>It's slimy and soft, like a rotten pickle.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of letting me go, it squeezes me hard, and I feel a crack.</p><p> </p><p><em>I</em> have to let go of <em>it</em> so I can scream at the pain of at least a few of my ribs getting broken.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah! Yes, well! That was ineffective! And uncalled for! What are you so upset over?!</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>"You <em>told Nightmare</em> about my mom, didn't you?! You fucking BASTARD!" I twist and shove and pull uselessly. It still feels better to struggle against the Author's grip than just hang there like a wet rag doll.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah. Yes, well. No. I did not.</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>I stop struggling. I don't stop seething. "You're a fucking <em>LIAR</em>. You and I <em>both</em> know that's just the sort of thing to set a <em>character</em> over the fucking <em>edge</em>, right? Just the right kind of <em>push</em> to move towards the ending you want. Are you going to try to tell me you <em>weren't </em>fucking <em>thrilled</em> when Nightmare asked me <em>if I had tried</em><em> to stop her?!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>The mass of tentacles shifts back and forth. It's shaking itself 'no.'</p><p> </p><p>"No? <em>NO</em><em>?!</em> You're going to DENY it?!"</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah! Yes, well! Not at all! It's a VERY compelling addition! A nice little tidbit to add in, to make you seem more relatable and sympathetic! But I did NOT provide that detail to Nightmare. YOU did.</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Give me the truth or you're not getting your ending, you <em>fucking piece of SHIT</em>."</p><p> </p><p>It sighs. "<em><strike>Ah. Yes, well. I'll tell you the truth, and if you ignore it or deny it, that is your choice. I did NOT provide that information to Nightmare. Nightmare was able to access your backstory organically according to this story-world. You've been here too long, and become too much of this story.</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>"What the fuck does that even <em>mean</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>It sighs again, angrier, more frustrated, less patient. "<em><strike>Ah! Yes, well! It means that you're almost fully integrated in this story-world! If you want to go back to your world, you must leave. Now. And I may be a simple being of almost unimaginable power and influence, but I am not unkind. I thought you'd like to leave in a way that mattered. Which would entertain ME greatly, and is obviously the better outcome for everyone.</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>I don't answer it.</p><p> </p><p>I don't have to.</p><p> </p><p>It was all leading here anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Honestly, I should have seen it coming a lot sooner.</p><p> </p><p>And I hate it. I hate it for Alistair and Halea and the others.</p><p> </p><p>I hate it because the Author will fucking <em>love</em> it.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah? Yes, well?</strike></em>"</p><p> </p><p>I hate it because I hate these kinds of endings.</p><p> </p><p>I nod. "You win, you piece of shit."</p><p> </p><p>The entire ball of tentacles that is the Author wiggles in fucking <em>glee</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Then it grips me tightly in its tentacle and tips itself over the edge of the boulder.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">You are nothing!</span>" Nightmare's voice echoes throughout the entire Fade.</p><p> </p><p>The Author crawls down the boulder's side, like ink running down and spreading across a cliff. I'm close enough to see their faces.</p><p> </p><p>The Author giggles.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah! Yes, well! I have always wanted to play a villain!</strike></em>" It whispers cheerily. Only to me.</p><p> </p><p>The Author stops just above the floor of Nightmare's Lair and dangles me above everyone, waving me side to side.</p><p> </p><p>Most of the others are fighting some pale demon with...fuck, does it have two pairs of human legs?!</p><p> </p><p>Halea and Solas stand on opposite sides, trapping the thing between alternating blasts of magic. Varric's stationed to another side, shooting at the pale demon when there aren't Little Fears and other demons to take care of. Hawke and Alistair rush around to cut down the demons that <em>can</em> be cut down.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair notices me, first. He whips around, like he <em>senses </em>me, and his eyes fly up, locking on mine.</p><p> </p><p>He yells something. I think it's my name. Then he shouts at the others, running away from them and towards me and the Author.</p><p> </p><p>"Let her go!" Alistair shouts up at the Author.</p><p> </p><p>The Author's grip on me tightens. "<strike><em>Ah! Yes, well! Now's your chance, Salome. Show me that you know how to get the right ending.</em></strike>"</p><p> </p><p>And the tears start flowing again.</p><p> </p><p>The Author squeezes me in delight. Alistair's face looks horrified, then determined again.</p><p> </p><p>I don't cry to upset him.</p><p> </p><p>I don't cry to make the Author happy.</p><p> </p><p>I cry because I know what's coming.</p><p> </p><p>I cry because I know what I have to do to make everything finally <em>end</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Come down and face me, demon!" Alistair yells at the Author. The others have taken care of the other demons, including the pale one, faster than I expected.</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe it's just in time. This is where it's all headed anyway.</p><p> </p><p>"Put her down, you slimy bastard!" Blackwall yells up, hitting his shield with his sword to get the Author's attention.</p><p> </p><p>"<em><strike>Ah! Yes, well! Let's see if you can take her from me, hmmm?</strike></em>" The Author launches all of its too-many tentacles off the side of the boulder, and onto the others.</p><p> </p><p>The fight doesn't last long.</p><p> </p><p>Then again, it's not supposed to.</p><p> </p><p>The others slice and spear and burn away at the other parts of the Author. It writhes and roars and flails around dramatically.</p><p> </p><p>It's definitely not hurt, not <em>really</em>, but it seems to like playing its part.</p><p> </p><p>As long as I play mine.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair cuts his way to me as the others fight, then cuts me out of the Author's tentacle. The tentacle shakes and writhes dramatically before disappearing in a slither.</p><p> </p><p>My legs give out and Alistair catches me, holding me to him and putting me gently on the ground. "Are you alright?!"</p><p> </p><p>I try to hold back my tears. "Yes, now that you're here."</p><p> </p><p>It hurts.</p><p> </p><p>The line.</p><p> </p><p>The look of relief on his face.</p><p> </p><p>It fucking <em>hurts</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He smiles, and my broken ribs feel even more broken from the way my heart twists in my chest.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair helps me stand up on my own, and I draw my daggers. But there aren't any more pieces of the Author to slice up.</p><p> </p><p>Everything's gone or stopped moving. The Author’s playing dead. I feel it watching us anyway.</p><p> </p><p>All it’s waiting for now is for Nightmare the Spider to come back.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you alright? Were you hurt?" I blink at Alistair, who's looking over me. "<span class="u">Maker's breath,</span> you're cut to shreds!" He scowls at a slimy chunk of tentacle still writhing near us. "If that thing ever comes back, I'm killing it twice as hard. Let's see how <em>it</em> likes getting julienned like a carrot."</p><p> </p><p>I see the others start moving towards the Fade Rift. It's on a hill past Nightmare's Lair, with a clear view of Adamant in dusk and fire through rippling slashes cut directly into the Fade.</p><p> </p><p>"We've got to keep moving," Hawke yells at us from a good few feet ahead. "That Rift's going to close any second!"</p><p> </p><p>Blackwall, Varric, and Solas are already at the Rift's edge, running through.</p><p> </p><p>Halea’s halfway up the hill, looking back and motioning to us frantically.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair grabs my hand with a grin. "Just one quick dash through a portal and we're back!" He tugs me forward.</p><p> </p><p>It's like they all forgot that Nightmare's coming back.</p><p> </p><p>It works out better this way.</p><p> </p><p>For me.</p><p> </p><p>For them.</p><p> </p><p>For the end.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone's rushing forward until they see a cloud of smoky darkness pour down from the sky. Nightmare, the spider version of it, appears out of the darkness, blocking us off from the others and from the exit. It crouches in front of the Fade Rift, eyes swirling, claws and jaws clacking</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">How do we get by?</span>" Alistair's hand tightens around mine, and he holds his sword out in front of both of us, ready to attack or defend. Halea and Hawke back up slowly towards us, moving away from Nightmare's vicious jaws clacking in their faces.</p><p> </p><p>Hawke looks at Halea, at Alistair, then at me. "<span class="u">Go. I'll cover you.</span>"</p><p> </p><p>Alistair shakes his head, looking between Nightmare and the Fade Rift. "<span class="u">No. You were right. The Wardens caused this mess. A Warden must...</span>" He turns and looks at me, and his words die away.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">A Warden must help them rebuild! That's <em>your</em> job! Corypheus is mine.</span>" Hawke steps forward, looking to Halea for permission to throw his life away.</p><p> </p><p>Halea looks at me. "What do we do?"</p><p> </p><p>This would have been the moment where we'd have to choose between Alistair and Hawke. Where we would have made the decision of who to sacrifice because, let's face it, almost no one can face a giant spider and fucking <em>live</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Solas was right," I say, looking back at Halea. Hawke's eyes widen as he realizes what's going to happen.</p><p> </p><p>"Salome? What are you..." He’s delivered the line perfectly.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair.</p><p> </p><p>Alistair was always going to be the hardest to convince.</p><p> </p><p>I draw my daggers and walk towards Nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>"Solas was right," I call over my shoulder. I keep my eyes fixed on Nightmare, so no one can see how much more I need to cry. "I'm the one staying. The rest of you need to get back to Adamant. Alive. <em>Together</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Salome..." Halea's voice catches.</p><p> </p><p>I stand in front of Nightmare, both of my daggers drawn. The Rose's Thorn in one hand, Olaf's Prize Cheese Knife in the other. No Ardent Blossom on my head, just dirt and blood and battlefield honor. "<em>Go! NOW!</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Nightmare's hundreds of eyes track onto me, and it shifts over, beginning to crouch. Like the fake Archdemon did back at the fortress, before it had jumped forward to try to eat us.</p><p> </p><p>I see Hawke and Halea dash up the hill from the corner of my eye. Good.</p><p> </p><p>And bad.</p><p> </p><p>Because Alistair isn't with them. He stands next to me, with his sword and shield drawn.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm with you."</p><p> </p><p>I shake my head. Because of <em>course</em> it wasn't going to be that easy. Of <em>course</em> I can't just send everyone off and expect him to <em>actually</em> leave with them.</p><p> </p><p>"Alistair, you-"</p><p> </p><p>"We're going home, Salome. Both of us. Together."</p><p> </p><p>Tears start falling from my eyes. Because they have to.</p><p> </p><p>It was all leading to this.</p><p> </p><p>"No, Alistair. We're not."</p><p> </p><p>I drop my daggers and plant my hands on the ground, kicking my foot out so it knocks his legs out from underneath him.</p><p> </p><p>He goes down with a shout of surprise.</p><p> </p><p>I grab my daggers and take off like a runner, pushing off of the ground to give me more momentum for Nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>I run up to its jaws, hack off a fang, slash at disgusting fleshy tentacles underneath its mouth, repeat, repeat, repeat.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Salome!</em>" Alistair's voice is angry and worried behind me.</p><p> </p><p>One more slash should do it.</p><p> </p><p>One more slash, and it's time.</p><p> </p><p>I slice through its other fang, and it rears back with a roar.</p><p> </p><p>It's time.</p><p> </p><p>I turn around, my daggers limp in my hands, and face Alistair. He's back up, favoring one foot over the other. I might have fractured one of his ankles, which slows him down and makes me feel even worse.</p><p> </p><p>"What are you doing?!" He shouts at me.</p><p> </p><p>I glance over to the Fade Rift.</p><p> </p><p>It's closing. <em>Fast</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It's time.</p><p> </p><p>'<em>When you need me, call for me.</em>'</p><p> </p><p>It had first sounded like something he had heard in my thoughts and parroted to me.</p><p> </p><p>'<em>When you need me, call for me.'</em> </p><p> </p><p>He had known before I had.</p><p> </p><p>'<em>When you need me, call for me.</em>'</p><p> </p><p>It's time.</p><p> </p><p>"Cole."</p><p> </p><p>And he's there.</p><p> </p><p>Not next to me.</p><p> </p><p>Next to Alistair.</p><p> </p><p>He wraps his skinny arms around Alistair's midsection, crouching low to stop him from moving forward.</p><p> </p><p>"What in Andraste's name?! Blast it, Cole! Where did you come from?! Let go of me!"</p><p> </p><p>He's angry and confused, staring at Cole, then at me.</p><p> </p><p>His face falls.</p><p> </p><p>So many other emotions pass across it.</p><p> </p><p>None of them good.</p><p> </p><p>I smile, my tears catching at the corner of my mouth and along the line of my chin.</p><p> </p><p><em>Thank you</em>, I send to Cole.</p><p> </p><p>He looks up at me from underneath his overly wide-brimmed hat.</p><p> </p><p>There are flowers around the metal part of his hat.</p><p> </p><p>He nods slightly, staring in my eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Salome!</em>" </p><p> </p><p>Alistair struggles against Cole, trying to wedge his hands between the boy's arms, trying to twist out of his hold, trying to move towards me.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Salome! Don't do this! PLEASE!</em>"</p><p> </p><p><em>Go</em>, I send to Cole.</p><p> </p><p>"Live," I whisper to Alistair, looking in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>His face wavers between horror and pain and love.</p><p> </p><p>Then his face is gone.</p><p> </p><p>And a second later, the Fade Rift closes.</p><p> </p><p>I hear the wind howling.</p><p> </p><p>I smell the ash and smoke and blood.</p><p> </p><p>I feel the ground near me shift, from a giant spider leg settling in place as it rears back.</p><p> </p><p>I turn around to face Nightmare and sob.</p><p> </p><p>This is what it was always leading to.</p><p> </p><p>No matter what I could have done, it was always going to be this.</p><p> </p><p>Nightmare comes at me, jaws open wide.</p><p> </p><p>Sob to scream.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>snap</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>crunch</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>dark</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0057"><h2>57. After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wake up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~Salome~<br/>--------<br/>~         ~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A scream and a yelp and a crash.</p><p> </p><p>I'm on my floor.</p><p> </p><p><em>My</em> floor.</p><p> </p><p>My dog waddles near me, a fat chihuahua mutt named Paprika.</p><p> </p><p>He grunts and sniffs at me.</p><p> </p><p>Grunts are as close to whining as Paprika can get.</p><p> </p><p>Paprika licks me.</p><p> </p><p>My heart is racing and I start crying.</p><p> </p><p>Paprika grunts again.</p><p> </p><p>I curl into a ball on the carpet.</p><p> </p><p>Paprika leaves to drink noisily from his water dish.</p><p> </p><p>I reach up and pat around the couch cushions above me until I find the controller.</p><p> </p><p>I press one of the buttons, waking the game back up.</p><p> </p><p>Haven.</p><p> </p><p>It's still paused at Haven.</p><p> </p><p>I sit up, revealing my phone underneath me.</p><p> </p><p>Paprika waddles back in, checking to see if I've pulled myself together or continued losing my fucking mind.</p><p> </p><p>The clock says barely fifteen minutes have passed.</p><p> </p><p>That much time.</p><p> </p><p>That much <em>life</em>.</p><p> </p><p>In fifteen minutes.</p><p> </p><p>I don't have any wounds. My body is as soft and round as it first was when I...</p><p> </p><p>Left?</p><p> </p><p>Or fell asleep?</p><p> </p><p>Did I actually <em>go</em> anywhere?</p><p> </p><p>I hold my non-oozed phone and stare at it.</p><p> </p><p>Paprika struggles up the soft cushioned stair-set I have next to the couch, and waddles across the cushions to lay down behind my head, grunting noisily.</p><p> </p><p>I swipe the screen open and call.</p><p> </p><p>Gavriel picks up on the second ring.</p><p> </p><p>"Salome! What's up, sister of mine?" His voice is cheery, and I hear laughter and the sounds of plates and utensils in the background.</p><p> </p><p>"Rel, how long has it been since you've heard from me?"</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, a few hours? Why?"</p><p> </p><p>"What was the last thing we talked about?"</p><p> </p><p>"We talked about what we were getting dad for his birthday...Salome, are you okay?" The sound of people and cutlery fade away as he moves to another room.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah? No? I don't know." Paprika grunts excitedly, hearing Rel's voice on the other end.</p><p> </p><p>"You don't know? Are you sick or something? Yes, Paprillika, I can hear you, hello!" He says sweetly and loudly. Paprika's little tail thumps on the couch, able to hear the sound of his voice.</p><p> </p><p>"I feel fine, kind of." I'm actually shaky and more than a little sweaty, but it doesn't feel like a fever. "I think I had a...an intense dream."</p><p> </p><p>"Intense? Like a nightmare?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Ha</em>!" It's too loud and sudden. I cover my mouth, even though it's just me and Paprika. "Uhm, sorry, no, it wasn't a nightmare. Just...an intense dream."</p><p> </p><p>"Okay...Salome, what's wrong? What's going on?"</p><p> </p><p>It was a bad idea to call Rel.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm fine, I think I just got really shaken by this dream, that's it. I'm fine."</p><p> </p><p>"Well that just sounds like bullshit." His voice gets muffled as he calls something to someone, probably in the room he had left, then gets back on. "Listen, I'm getting off early and bringing you some Fancy-Ass Strawberry Ice Cream and you're going to tell me what that dream was about. Okay?"</p><p> </p><p>Even though he's the <em>younger</em> sibling, Gavriel always felt the need to take care of me. Normally it chafed at me, made me feel useless.</p><p> </p><p>Tonight, it sounded exactly like what I needed.</p><p> </p><p>"You sure? Where will you find it, it's like eleven at night."</p><p> </p><p>"I got my ways, sister of mine. And by 'my ways' I mean there's a 24-7 Walmart on the way to your place from the fire-station. Be at yours in 20?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah."</p><p> </p><p>While I wait for Gavriel to arrive, I pick up the controller and play through Haven.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>That night, she shares strawberry ice cream with her brother and tells him everything she can remember of her dream.</p><p> </p><p>She tells him that she was transported into a video game, that she became a part of its world, and that she was almost lost there.</p><p> </p><p>He tells her that she should consider calling her counselor. He tells her this with a loving and worried look on his face.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn't want him to worry.</p><p> </p><p>She calls out of her job for the rest of the week. One of those days, she meets with her counselor, and goes over the dream, and what certain things could have meant or may have been significant.</p><p> </p><p>The other days, she plays through the game, searching for signs of herself.</p><p> </p><p>She finds none.</p><p> </p><p>It disappoints her, and it comforts her.</p><p> </p><p>How nice, she thinks, that she was so enraptured by a story that it was able to consume her so completely.</p><p> </p><p>How nice, she thinks, that it doesn't happen very often.</p><p> </p><p>The dream's grip loosens on her, and she is able to return to work. A special fullness rises in her heart when they ask her to make shortbread-and-jam cookies.</p><p> </p><p>Weeks go by. The loneliness that she felt on waking from the dream eases more slowly than she would have thought. But it eases regardless.</p><p> </p><p>She misses the companions she dreamt of. She misses the lover she found as she dreamed.</p><p> </p><p>She laughs at herself for the mistakes she made in her story, thinks of how she would do things differently if she should ever be fortunate enough to have the dream again.</p><p> </p><p>More weeks go by. </p><p> </p><p>She continues playing the game, and looking for herself. The lack of signs of herself is still a bittersweet thing.</p><p> </p><p>The day she gets to the choice in the game, the one where she chose to sacrifice herself in the dream, she finds that there is no third option. The game tells her to choose.</p><p> </p><p>She stops playing.</p><p> </p><p>Months go by. She goes to work, comes home, visits with her family and friends, plays with her pet, consumes new stories and revisits old ones.</p><p> </p><p>The game stays in its case on her shelf.</p><p> </p><p>Almost a year goes by.</p><p> </p><p>She thinks of her dream every once in a while, but it is healthier for her to let it be.</p><p> </p><p>The game has been leant to a friend. She does not expect to play it again anytime soon.</p><p> </p><p>One day, she goes to the fire-staton where her brother works.</p><p> </p><p>They are going to a movie, the next in a series that has captured her attention.</p><p> </p><p>Her brother is eager to go with her, so has insisted she meet him there.</p><p> </p><p>She does.</p><p> </p><p>Her brother is waiting for her, along with someone she doesn't know.</p><p> </p><p>"He's new," her brother tells her. "Seems like he likes some of the same stuff as you!"</p><p> </p><p>The man holds out his hand in greeting.</p><p> </p><p>She pauses. Her face feels hot and cold at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>The man looks exactly like him.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you alright? Or have my good looks and cleverness already swept you off your feet?"</p><p> </p><p>The man sounds exactly like him, using ironic self-deprecation to ease the tension.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm Salome," she says to him, placing her hand in his.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm Alistair," he says, smiling at her in a way that steals her breath away.</p><p> </p><p>The brother makes a joke about the man only wanting to go to the movie so he could meet her.</p><p> </p><p>The man laughs and looks at her, igniting something within her heart.</p><p> </p><p>"It seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," the man says, a familiar smile lighting up his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>She smiles back at him.</p><p> </p><p>She stares into his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>She sees a thin</p><p> </p><p>black</p><p> </p><p>line</p><p> </p><p>wiggle in the whites of his eye.</p><p> </p><p>A small wave,</p><p> </p><p>then gone.</p><p> </p><p>"What's wrong?" The brother asks. He stares at the man and his sister, feeling the strange tension in the air.</p><p> </p><p>The man shrugs, laughs nervously. "Do I have something on my face?"</p><p> </p><p>The woman stares at him.</p><p> </p><p>Then shakes her head.</p><p> </p><p>"No, it's nothing. Let's get to the movie."</p><p> </p><p>The brother walks ahead, letting them walk alone.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you sure we haven't met before?" The woman is scared of his answer.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't think I'd forget a woman like you," the man replies with a gentle grin.</p><p> </p><p>He holds his arm out to her.</p><p> </p><p>She takes it, wrapping her arm around his,</p><p> </p><p>accepting the gift left to her by the Author,</p><p> </p><p>and wondering how he was there</p><p> </p><p>with her</p><p> </p><p>instead of inside a story.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0058"><h2>58. End Credits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thanks and acknowledgements!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="gmail_default">
  <p>Hi everyone!</p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p>Thank you so much for reading <em>Safeguard</em>! Andthank you if you're reading this part (I know it takes a lot of effort to come back after a story's finished).</p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p>I especially want to thank the people that took the time to comment, in chronological order from their first comment (as of September 15, 2020):</p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p>ladygekko</p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p>ShadowSparrow</p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p>Fireplace_Dragon</p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p>UnlimitedLea</p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p>eHeresy</p>
  <p>DraconicInspiration</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p>I seriously looked forward to getting your comments in my inbox, and <em>you </em>inspired and drove me to finish this fanfic!</p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p><em>Dragon Age</em> is my favorite story of all time. Ever. In the history of stories I've ever experienced (which is a <em>lot</em>, as both a person and in my job as a librarian), it's my absolute favorite.</p>
</div><div class="gmail_default">
  <p> </p>
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  <p>This is also my second fanfic I've ever written, and my first <em>Dragon Age</em> one! I've "written" them in my head before, but never put them down in writing and sent them out into the world. I probably wouldn't have tried it if it hadn't been for the encouragement I got from my first fanfic (it’s <em>Gargoyles</em>-based, you can read it here if you're interested: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278963/chapters/55749190">https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278963/chapters/55749190</a>).</p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <p>There were a lot of things that I tried in this fanfic that were different from my first one. The main character, Salome, is super different from my other protagonist (Melissa), and from myself. It was kind of tough at times to write her, because I had to remind myself that she was supposed to be out of my comfort zone as a character. There were still parts of her that were taken from my life: kind of a shitty memory and a desire to punch idiots every once in a while being two notable ones (although I've never actually punched anyone, I promise!).</p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <p>And of course I need to mention Salome and Solas: She <em>hated </em>him, as if that wasn't obvious, right? But <em>why</em>? Well, I wanted to explore how someone who was fully against him and what he was doing would interact with him. And holy <em>shit </em>did that take on a life of its own! I'm actually more of a 'can't we all get along?' kind of person, so the interactions between Salome and Solas getting <em>that</em> heated ended up being an interesting challenge for me!</p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <p>I also tried out some different things with verb tense, character voice, and trying to incorporate the original material and lore into the story in a way that was honoring it, still giving due credit, but using it to enhance and not take over the fic. Hopefully I was able to do that effectively!</p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <p>I was conflicted about the multimedia, aka the picture chapter, part of this fic. It was <em>really</em> out of my comfort zone, but it helped fit with the ending that I was going for. Bottom line for that chapter is that it was fun, and I'm super grateful that everyone seems to have at least humored me!</p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <p>As for future fanfics, <em>Dragon Age</em> or otherwise, who knows what'll happen next? I definitely don't! My first fanfic was born out of re-watching <em>Gargolyes</em> and pandemic terror. It was able to keep me occupied and hopeful during the first part (so far) of living in a pandemic in the United States.</p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <p>This one popped out of my head because I started re-playing <em>Inquisition</em>, and had a lot of discussions with a friend who's much more knowledgeable about the lore and traded theories about what DA4 is going to be about (and holy <em>shit</em> that concept trailer, am I right?!).</p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <p>I plan to let my brain rest and see what, if any, other fanfics pop out of it.</p>
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  <p>I hope you've enjoyed reading <em>Safeguard</em> as much as I enjoyed writing it, and thank you, thank you, <em>thank you</em> for reading!</p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <p>Much love,</p>
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  <p>~BreakerBroken</p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Links to songs mentioned in Safeguard:<br/>"Undone in Sorrow" by Crooked Still https://youtu.be/5DHTyudYyc0<br/>"Silence" by Jooselord [Explicit] https://youtu.be/cUrEh1FEsK8<br/>"Contact" by Lulleaux feat. Giang Pham https://youtu.be/XJ5BMSUuNDI<br/>"Hey Leonardo (She Likes Me For Me)" by Blessid Union of Souls https://youtu.be/vSdbQLXpmPQ</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0059"><h2>59. And Yet...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Surprise.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~ ~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She meets him for dinner.</p><p> </p><p>It isn't the first dinner, or second, or third.</p><p> </p><p>But it is the first time she will ask him if he knows.</p><p> </p><p>They order food and drink. The sight of cheeses and meats arranged on a wooden cutting board conjures a mixture of fondness and loneliness.</p><p> </p><p>"Have you ever played any of the <em>Dragon Age</em> games?" The glass in her hand trembles as she speaks.</p><p> </p><p>The man shakes his head. "Never heard of them. Why?"</p><p> </p><p>Tension turns her stomach sour. She pushes the food and drink away from her.</p><p> </p><p>She takes a deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>She starts to tell him the story.</p><p> </p><p>She begins with the first, describing characters and setting and scenario. The man looks mildly interested, but does not show any recognition. He asks polite questions and smiles tenderly at her, as if he understands exactly what it is she's sharing with him.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't understand.</p><p> </p><p>Relief and disappointment swirl inside her. He asks her why she brought the story up.</p><p> </p><p>She tells him a little about how the story had helped her limp through her grief after her mother's death. She tells him even less about the dream she had well over a year ago that had shaken her to the very center of her being.</p><p> </p><p>The man asks to borrow the game so he can experience the story for himself.</p><p> </p><p>She nervously agrees. The man believes she is nervous to share something she loves.</p><p> </p><p>She is nervous because she does not know what will happen when he sees himself in it.</p><p> </p><p>A week goes by.</p><p> </p><p>The man receives the game and begins to play the story. He thoughtfully considers who to be, deciding on something close to his current self. He clicks buttons and shifts levers and watches lines of pixels flirt with algorithms and fight against code.</p><p> </p><p>He is impressed with how much emotion the story is able to evoke from him so far. He has seen many things in his year at the fire station that have hardened his resolve, but the story moves him in a strange way.</p><p> </p><p>He feels a special draw towards the mentor figure that appears. He wonders if this character might remind him of someone from his past, but he still cannot recall anything much before this year. </p><p> </p><p>An accident, they assumed. Something that caused his mind to shut out everything from before the day he woke up in an uncomfortable hospital bed.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he <em>has</em> played the game before, and simply doesn't remember?</p><p> </p><p>He is suddenly very tired. He saves the game, and goes to bed, before crossing the bridge into Ostagar.</p><p> </p><p>But the man can't sleep.</p><p> </p><p>His mind buzzes with thoughts of the game, that he must play just a little more of it.</p><p> </p><p>He turns the game back on, and walks his character across the bridge, following the white arrow on the map.</p><p> </p><p>He gets lost. He is assigned extra quests from a man in a cage and a dog trainer. He even meets the king's general. The man doesn't like the general at all.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, he gets his bearings and moves his character towards the white arrow.</p><p> </p><p>A scene begins to play.</p><p> </p><p>The first character appears and speaks. "<span class="u">What is it now? Haven't Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?</span>"</p><p> </p><p>The second character appears, and the man chuckles. The character looks a lot like himself.</p><p> </p><p>Then the second character speaks.</p><p> </p><p>"<span class="u">I simply came to deliver a message fr-</span>"</p><p> </p><p>The man drops the controller he was using to play the game.</p><p> </p><p>The second character speaks with <em>his</em> voice. And as he looks closely at the character, he sees more and more resemblance to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Was <em>this</em> what she was nervous for him to see? That he was the mirror image of this character, come to life?</p><p> </p><p>Why would she have been nervous to point out the resemblance?</p><p> </p><p>Something calls to him in the back of his mind. Something insistent. Something important.</p><p> </p><p>A fine layer of dust gently falls onto the man's head.</p><p> </p><p>He looks up and sees dark cracks growing across the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>The cracks spread like roots, like ink, like fever.</p><p> </p><p>The call gets louder and the cracks grow darker.</p><p> </p><p>Then the cracks begin to writhe, and he remembers.</p><p> </p><p>He remembers <em>everything</em>.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>To be continued...</p><p>Salome in <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672773/chapters/65053990"><em>Equilibrium</em></a></p><p>Halea in <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26662531/chapters/65024998"><em>Aftermath</em></a></p><p> </p>
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